


Undertale: Echoes

by Damona999



Series: Verbal Doodling Corner [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Accidental inter dimensional travel, Antivax- SERIOUSLY SUSAN, Anxiety, At least a dozen other topics that might be considered targeting and or offensive, Body Horror, Casual loop otherwise known as a predestination paradox, Don't trust the cinnamon roll, Emotionally constipated teddy bear (Tsundere alert), Endangerment of civilians, Entropy, Everyone Has Issues, Everyone hates Susan Linda and Karen, Flashbacks, Further tags may be added in the future, Gaster really needs a vacation, Gen, General intolerance of LGTB and non conformist religions thanks to Linda, Generic entitled jerk wads that will be known as Karen Linda and Susan, Good W.D. Gaster, Graphic depictions of violence and gore to be added in later chapters, Grillby is aware of and can remember resets to at least some degree, Grillby is entirely too chill, Hallucinations, Indirect ties to the Shadow's Wake AU, Mentions of genocide, Multi, Nerd with knowledge of the multiverse, Other, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Papyrus is either oblivious or pretending to be, Paranoia, Pop Culture Refrences, Racism, Reckless Driving, Sadistic Tendancies, Sans and Grillby don't talk enough, Sans is paranoid, Seriously Sans therapy you need it, Seriously if you're easily offended don't click, Temporal Displacement, The story makes sense it's just messed up, Vindictive behaviors, Waaaay too many resets, paradoxes, pta, questionable morality, questionable sanity, skeledad, world building
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:54:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 21
Words: 72,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24168421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Damona999/pseuds/Damona999
Summary: Ever wonder what might happen if someone from the fandom who knows way too much about Undertale were to suddenly end up in the world they've been obsessed with for years?Huh... me too. :3Just a heads up, this isn't a standard Isekai fanfic, there are fantastical elements that carry over from the transported character's home world for added flavor.
Series: Verbal Doodling Corner [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1740169
Comments: 18
Kudos: 51





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is based loosely on some self insert fanfics I've more or less poked at over the years.  
> Never really had much interest in most of them for... various.... uncomfortable reasons... : /  
> But the overall premise was interesting so I started a few verbal doodles in my spare time.  
> This is one of those verbal doodles.  
> Also, the whole (Y/N) and leaving blank spaces in the story for names kinda always threw me off, so, gender neutral pronouns and nicknames. Sorry/not sorry.  
> I also apologize if any of the tags turned out strange, I tried changing them around for several hours and just couldn't make them do what I wanted.  
> Disclaimer: Undertale owned by Toby Fox

Several years ago, the barrier imprisoning monster kind fell. And despite the initial outcry that rocked the world when monsters suddenly turned out to be real, things were more or less stable now. There were still groups of people that seemed dead set on making life difficult for anyone who wasn't human, but they rarely ever caused any real trouble. With the introduction of new laws extending _human_ rights to all other sapient creatures, it meant that the police force was legally required to recognize them as people. When a monster was assaulted or disappeared, the legal system treated it no differently then if a human was attacked or murdered. Humans couldn't get away with dusting a monster and refusing to acknowledge it as anything less than killing someone else. With such a safety net in place, the more peaceable individuals were free to learn from one another, leading to a much overdue cultural exchange between their races.

Of everything their new relationship with mankind offered, Halloween turned out to be one of the most amusing concepts to most of monster kind. It was true that a great deal of the superstitions and traditions around All Hallow's Eve were a bit insensitive and cruel, but there wasn't anything wrong with the holiday itself. There wasn't any harm in dressing up and staying up late, meeting new people, just having fun for a change. And the festival of night, as the town of Sorren dubbed it, turned out to be a perfect place for both humans and monsters to do just that.

It was an interesting mix of old and new, torches, candles and bonfires shedding light on an open field at the outskirts of town alongside glow lights and crystal lanterns. Booths of all kinds cluttered the area, built to their owners' tastes in a manner that made some of them look like they came straight out of a fairy tale. Each one sported its own unique addition to the festival, vendors, games and craft stalls supplying a little bit of everything for everyone. Children screeched and laughed, carefully watched by the community as a whole while they chased one another through the paths between booths. And in the center of it all was a massive bonfire so much larger than all of the ones surrounding it, unlit and almost foreboding in the way the shadows shifted and pooled in its hidden crevices.

The largest bonfire wasn't meant to be lit until the clock struck twelve, at the stroke of midnight. It was all a little dramatic and showy for Sans' tastes, but he supposed there was no harm in a little fun every now and then. If nothing else, Papyrus was enjoying himself and seemed excited by the prospect of the singing and dancing that would take place after the bonfire was lit. The only real problem was that he didn't know what he was supposed to do with himself until then. True, his little bro didn't have any trouble dragging him from booth to booth to enjoy games and try new foods, but there wasn't a whole lot that really caught his interest. They were too close to the city for any decent view of the stars. The light pollution would have made it difficult to see much even if it weren't for all of the added ambient light. And there weren't exactly a whole lot of booths invested in stargazing or anything of the like either. True, there was one tent that had been made into a makeshift canvas of the night sky, but after spending so much time staring at the ceiling in Waterfall, it sort of lost its intended effect.

At some point, Sans managed to get lost in the crowd, but he didn't mind it too much. As much as he loved his younger brother, Papyrus was hard to handle for too long after he got well and truly excited about something. Besides, he hadn't missed the telltale red and blue of a certain fish lady shortly before the two of them were separated. If anything happened, Undyne would be sure to keep Paps safe. It was with that confidence that he started sifting through the booths for something that might actually be able to hold his interest for a little while. It was a good feeling, getting lost, wandering around without any real plan or destination in mind, something he couldn't do a whole lot of lately. He passed a few groups of friends, monsters and humans intermingling, laughing and joking around together, simply enjoying one another's company. And something inside of Sans relaxed slightly, only for him to flinch when movement caught in his peripheral vision.

For all of three seconds, he nearly panicked, his magic flaring and coiling inside of him as he prepared for a quick retreat. But what he saw when he twisted around to see what ever it was that startled him, froze him in place. It couldn't be, the booth had been empty just a second ago, hadn't it? There was no way he would have overlooked someone standing behind the counter, even in passing. And that was when something cold closed around his soul, forcing his wisps to gutter out briefly. They had no presence... why couldn't he sense a living soul behind what had to be a mask, what couldn't possibly be anything else? Because how was it possible that _he_ was here? On the surface, alive and well? It wasn't possible, it just wasn't, he couldn't be.

But then... what sort of sick coincidence was this? That face, pale and smooth with two horrid cracks splitting down either side that looked even worse with the way the shadows were pooling inside of them. And the eyes... or lack there of, how could a mask be so realistic? It looked like a bare skull with empty eye sockets, devoid of light just as his were now. And the way the right eye was shaped just ever so slightly wrong, curved downward as if it were drooping or melted. As if only just now noticing him, the figure turned its gaze towards him and Sans felt as though his soul might burst from fright with the way the mask flexed ever so slightly, allowing for a smirk that hurt to look at. Their voice was deep and smooth, similar but not the same, not the same. "Well, if it is not the first skeleton I have seen all night." This wasn't Gaster, even if they looked like him.

It took a significant amount of effort for Sans to force a grin and slowly approach the booth, curling his hands into his hoodie pockets to hide how much they were shaking. His voice was weak when he tried falling back on the one thing that always helped him calm down, but who ever they were, they didn't seem to notice how nervous he was. "Feelin' a little bonely all by yourself?" Their smirk twitched just the slightest bit wider, a soft breath escaping them that seemed like it could have been a laugh if they'd just tried a little harder. Something about them seemed to relax slightly and there was just the faintest hint of humor in their tone of voice when they answered him. "Unfortunately so, the night seems rather dead, honestly." Oookay... that joke was morbid no matter how he tried to look at it, though he did his best to avoid showing how unsettling he found it. Instead he chuckled lowly, trying to hide how flat the sound was by imitating that strange noise like he'd heard humans do when they were clearing their throats.

Who ever they were, they seemed pleased even if he was sure they could tell he didn't really find it funny. They straightened a bit and folded their arms behind their back in a way that looked a little too much like something Gaster would do. It was honestly getting harder and harder not to compare them in ways that made his soul ache. But before he could say or do anything that would make things worse, they were speaking again, gesturing to the sign next to their booth that indicated it was a refreshments stand. "Can I get you anything?"

There were no lights in their eye sockets, but he could still feel their stare boring into him expectantly. He shifted his feet slightly and considered for a moment, forcing his grin wider as he huffed out a tense breath. "Nah, not unless ya got a bottle of ketchup back there somewhere." Sans wasn't expecting them to bend down behind the counter with a breathy chuckle, straightening back up holding exactly what he'd asked for. They slid the bottle of ketchup across the counter and watched him with another one of those smirks, this one slightly wider than the last. It felt like they were watching him a bit too critically as he picked up the ketchup bottle and took a quick drink from it, feeling a little better with the taste of the condiment swirling around in his skull. "Staying true to character I see."

That comment drew his attention back to the figure behind the counter. They weren't standing up straight anymore, instead they were leaning on the counter with their arms folded over the top of it. His attention was immediately drawn to their hands, only to find himself disappointed when he noticed that they were covered by thick white gloves. Well, so much for that, he couldn't very well ask them to take those off without seeming strange. They considered one another silently while he took another long pull from the bottle. He honestly needed it all things considered. True to character? What on earth had they meant by that? But just as he'd worked up the nerve to ask, a shout from behind him caused Sans to flinch and spin around. "SANS!"

It was Papyrus, it was just Papyrus... gods... he needed to do something about his nerves before he ended up causing a scene with his magic. "THERE YOU ARE YOU LAZYBONES!" It was relaxing hearing his brother shouting at him like normal, something that he really needed right about then. Between the ketchup and hearing Papyrus launching into another one of his trademark rants, his sense of unease was quickly vanishing into the ether. "UGH!!! OF COURSE YOU FOUND MORE KETCHUP! BUT YOU SHOULD KNOW BETTER THAN TO TAKE SOMETHING FROM AN ABANDONED STAND!!!" Wait... abandoned? Sans turned back around, shocked to find that the person he'd been talking to was gone. A quick glance around the area confirmed that yeah, they weren't there. What. The. Fuck? Where the hell did they go?

What ever else Papyrus was saying ended up thrown to the wayside, his ketchup bottle forgotten on the counter as he started searching for the mysterious figure with a frantic energy he hadn't felt in a long time. Sans was nearly at his wits end by the time he caught sight of the tail end of a black coat vanishing between two tents. One teleport later he was stumbling out into the parking lot being used for the event, no sign of them. Or at least he thought so, until he heard the roar of an engine as he was passing between two sections of parked cars. He turned just in time to see a sleek black motorcycle scream past him and go flying down the isle, missing him by only a few feet if that. Stars, they'd almost hit him... wait... it was them!

The next thing Sans knew, he was chasing after them, barely catching sight of when the motorbike took a sharp turn and jumped a fence! How. The. Fuck? After that it was a mess of shortcuts and frantic scrambling to avoid being left behind. They shot straight into the city, taking hairpin turns and running stop signs as they went. No one seemed to notice them and they threaded through traffic with a reckless abandon that made Undyne seem like a responsible driver. They ran into a red light but instead of stopping, they just kept going. A semi truck ran out in front of them and they tilted the bike on its side, spinning it underneath the big rig and righting it the moment they were clear.

Nothing seemed to slow them on their way, until at last they ripped out of the busier sections of the city and passed into the quieter more residential areas on the opposite side. There they seemed to relax slightly, slowing to a more reasonable speed and taking a turn towards the outskirts farthest from Mt. Ebbot. Sans wasn't expecting them to keep driving for as long as they did, leaving the city behind and following along back roads until they reached a large gated property hidden in the woods. There must have been a button or a switch or something on the bike or in their pocket because the gate opened for them and they quickly passed through it, the wrought iron blockade swinging shut behind them.

Rather than coming to a reasonable stop, they swung the bike around and forced it to a halt, parking in a reckless manner that reminded him of the stunts they'd pulled in town. Their coat was off before they even reached the door, stuffing it under an arm as they fiddled with the keys. As Sans struggled to catch his breath, watching them from the nearest tree he could find to hide in, he realized that their hands were shaking. It took them almost five minutes just to unlock the front door and they almost seemed to stumble over themself in their haste to get inside. The door closed with a resounding crash and Sans didn't see them again for a while after that.

There were windows in the lower floor, large sun room windows that left for a clear view of most of the downstairs. But he didn't see them for quite some time after they got inside, though they looked calmer when they finally passed back into view. They weren't shaking anymore, though they looked agitated as they paced back and forth in the middle of what looked like a sitting room. Their erratic behavior only grew more intense when they finally broke from their pacing enough to start fiddling with an old flip phone. Then they were right back to pacing again with the small device pressed against the side of their... head? Skull? He didn't know anymore. But even without wisps glittering in their eye sockets, he still recognized the eerie stillness that fell over them a few seconds later.

They slowly pulled away from the cell phone and shut it quietly, setting it carefully down on a nearby coffee table. From there they dashed over to a small desk area and flipped open a laptop Sans hadn't noticed, powering it on and fidgeting while it booted up. They were looking more and more unsettled by the second and he almost couldn't believe the frantic energy behind it when they entered the pass code and started sifting through files. It was a little alarming, watching them flitting through computer coding manually as if searching for something they couldn't find through normal means. What ever they were looking for, it was clear that they didn't find it. Their next stop was google of all places, pulling open a search bar and abruptly freezing up, as if they weren't sure how to proceed. Their hands were shaking again, he wished he could see what they were doing, but he wasn't close enough. Sure, he could recognize the logo for Google search, but he was too far away to read the small text on their computer screen.

One search passed, then another, and another and another. Each one only seemed to cause them further distress and the next thing Sans knew, he was loosing sight of them as they scrambled for the stairs. The figure stumbled and tripped once or twice, unsteady on their feet, grasping the railing as if it could somehow help ground them. Then they were disappearing from his field of view. A part of him wanted to look for another window he could peer through, but they'd left the laptop open. If he wanted to know what they were searching for, now would be a good time to check. One shortcut later he was standing in front of the small machine and it felt like his soul dropped somewhere lower in his chest when he saw the search they'd left open.

W.D. Gaster was written in the query section, a blank page with no results found sitting underneath it. A quick check through their search history left him feeling shaky and cold. His name was there, along with Papyrus and about a dozen other monsters he knew. He could guess what they would have found, pictures, social media accounts, maybe even one or two news articles. Another shortcut later and he was flitting through the trees, searching for some sign of the stranger in the upstairs windows.

When he finally caught sight of them again, they looked defeated and exhausted. They were sitting in front of a desk with their back to the windows, the edge of a large leather bound book just barely in his line of sight. They were slouched forward, arms on the desk with their fingers laced together near the top of their head, their brow resting against them. Their movements seemed sluggish and lethargic as they straightened back up and closed the book, running a hand over its cover and carefully clasping it shut again. They sat there for the longest time, almost as if they couldn't be sure of their next move. Then they stood, glancing over the tome as if it was one of the most important things in the world to them before they slipped out view again.

What was going on here? A part of him wanted to knock on their door until they came to see who would be out in the woods in the middle of the night. But that wouldn't look good... would it? They'd only just seen him, what, a half hour ago? Maybe give or take another thirty minutes, but that was besides the point. Seeing him again so soon would make it obvious that he'd been following them. And what if they reacted violently? It was clear they weren't in the most stable mindset. They were agitated, possibly scared. Definitely not thinking clearly if their reckless driving was any indicator.

No, now wouldn't be a good time. He was definitely going to talk to them, but later, when he could do so without looking suspicious. It wasn't like he couldn't find them again. He knew where they lived now, he could take his time, get them to trust him. Then he could try to find out how they knew about Gaster. With that set in his mind, he took one last shortcut home and collapsed into his sheets, exhausted. But sleep wasn't something that came easily, not with all of the questions swirling around in his skull. He hadn't noticed the figure in the downstairs window staring up at him as he teleported away. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get to see things through the eyes of our transported character.  
> It's really just a summery though, a bit of backstory explaining why they were at the festival and a look into their life a bit.  
> Mostly, they're just freaking out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Undertale owned by Toby Fox

How had this happened? It started like any other day, hadn't it? True, planning for Halloween was always a very stressful and involved process. It was part of why they'd moved so far away from all the hustle and bustle of the city. Between their own preparations for the darkest night, their daily life and keeping their relatively small business afloat. They hardly had the time to deal with children rushing up to their door expecting treats and pleasant conversation, never mind worrying about their safety afterwards.

It was nerve wracking, waiting for the bell to toll, knowing that at any moment the world would become infinitely more dangerous. Most of the time it didn't really amount to much of anything, just a long night and an even longer day afterward. But every once in a while, they could feel eyes on them as they went about their business, patrolling the forests with their hand at the hilt of a sword. Those nights were the worst, times where they could feel death prowling at their heels.

Sometimes, it lasted longer, a slowly building sense of unease that grew over entire days. Sometimes, they didn't feel comfortable waiting for that final surge of disquiet that was chased by a resonating ill intent that radiated from everywhere and nowhere all at once. Sometimes they left early, scouting the area fearfully, double checking their wards and keeping their cloak pulled taught over their armor. It'd been hard to explain their disappearances in the beginning. Their patrons often questioned them about the sudden deviations from their usual schedule. But after a while, most of them dropped the issue. And the few that were persistent enough to openly state worry over it were quickly reassured when they simply said that it was a cultural thing.

At first it had made them nervous and maybe even a little bit guilty, but they hadn't lied, not exactly. They just didn't elaborate on anything, kept to themself. And with the eccentric motif of their bar, no one questioned it. No one questioned them. The Elderbrew was a quiet place, cheerful and secluded, with an atmosphere that left everyone feeling welcome... at least, until you weren't. The city had given them a real fight when they first started setting up, but with enough negotiations and stubbornly putting their foot down over religious and cultural freedom, they'd eventually managed to get what they wanted. It'd just cost them a fair bit.

An authentic mid evil ages tavern? Most people couldn't get enough of it, even if the place smelled like wood smoke, candle wax and brandy. Return customers were a common occurrence, they were used to seeing the same people several nights in a row. The regulars came almost every night. At times they wished that was all their life was. Long nights tending to their patrons, pouring drinks, serving good fresh cooked meals and singing age old songs for those who needed something to take their minds off of what was waiting for them back home. But life was hardly kind, hardly fair.

The festival of night had been a change of pace, it was meant to be a chance to relax, enjoy themself for a change. Perhaps that was were they'd messed up. They'd been sick for almost a week before then, holed up in their home waiting for it to pass. And the poster they'd found stapled to the front door of their bar? It'd looked a little too bright, a little too energetic and they'd still been exhausted from being sick. Perhaps they should have actually opened that day instead of filling out a registration form for a booth and putting up a sign saying they'd be closed in preparation for the event.

They'd been so busy mixing drinks, preparing home brews and cooking that they hadn't spent any time in town in the week leading up to the festival. All that time, all that time and they'd been completely oblivious. They'd dressed up, in costume, they'd left as W.D. Gaster for crying out loud! Their stand had been a smash hit and the costumes had seemed so realistic, so much more impressive than anything they'd ever seen in real life before. The costumes looked like something you'd see on TV or in a super fan's creepy collection of Hollywood level cosplay. Super realistic, they'd been amazed that they weren't the only one putting so much effort into looking the part.

At first when a _Sans_ walked up to their stand, they hadn't thought anything of it. It'd certainly added a little bit of flavor to their night, considering they hadn't seen anyone else dressed as a skeleton. But that was all, they certainly hadn't expected him to be real! When he'd asked for ketchup, they'd felt mildly amused, a little bit daring even. It had been a little surprising to see him actually start drinking it. There hadn't been a zipper or a latch or anything, at least, not that they could see. Then again, they had no idea how he'd managed to make the wisps turn on and off like that. If he could go through that much effort to make the mask so convincing, perhaps he'd found a way of hiding an opening so he could eat things without it being obvious.

They'd been ready to write it off, maybe ask around on the forums that were sure to pop up online with people talking about the event and the costumes they'd worn. Maybe they could even get a few tips regarding their next build if they were really interested in doing something more elaborate. But when they heard that shout, when they saw that unmistakable figure stomping towards their booth through the crowd... when they saw the firelight through the separated sections of his mandible and upper jaw. That was it. There was no way something like that could be faked. There was empty space where a face should have been, where cheeks and skin and muscle should have been filling it. They couldn't help it, they'd panicked, they'd run.

The first ten or twenty minutes passed in a rush, they'd been too frantic to focus on where they were or even where they were going. It was well enough they'd managed to avoid getting into an accident while they were still internally screaming at themself. The ride back home was calming after they'd recovered from the initial shock, it helped them clear their head, even if they were still shaking so badly when they got there that they couldn't seem to fit the house keys in their slot properly. It had taken them ages to find some measure of composure once they were safe inside their home again. And with some vague idea of what they were dealing with, they set about checking to make sure they were right, praying they were wrong, yet terrified that they would wake in the morning and life would return to the way it was before.

They should have known the results even before they tried it, even before they made that damn phone call and found only static on the other end. Before they tried searching their computer's files for any signs of the game, clawing through everything they knew about coding in the hopes that it was somehow still there, only to find nothing. If that wasn't bad enough, they couldn't even find the platform they'd gotten it from. There wasn't even any proof that Steam had ever been installed on their machine to begin with. Google search had just been a stupid fucking mistake! Social media accounts? News articles? W.D. Gaster... no results found....

So the world had forgotten him... The world had forgotten him!?!? They turned and nearly tripped over their own two feet, stumbling and trembling as they fled for their study. No! No no no! Not their collection, they couldn't loose that, they couldn't! They should have been concerned when they heard the door rebound off the wall of their study as they forced their way inside, searching for something, anything. The most important book to them was the first one they opened, sweeping their desk clear and setting it down with more care then they thought they were capable of at the moment. It took them half of forever to undo the clasp and start rifling through the pages, collapsing into their desk chair with relief the moment they were able to confirm that nothing was missing.

All digital evidence had been erased. But the hard copies... the hard copies were still in tact. They still had it... they still had all of it. A quiet glance around their study confirmed that much, but the aftermath of the panic had left them drained, exhausted. They wouldn't be going out tonight, could they even risk patrolling the woods this time? Or would there be real danger waiting out there for them? Would they be prepared for it? Or would they end up dead the moment they revealed themself?

Questions for later. With an exhausted sigh, they set about sealing their book and stood quietly, glancing back at it for a moment to reassure themself that it still existed. They could deal with this tomorrow, make sense of everything and decide how to proceed from there. If nothing else... if nothing else, they weren't required to clear away their booth for another two days. And the wards they'd placed on the lock box would be enough to keep anyone from trying to steal it, hopefully prevent anyone from even noticing it if luck held. Either way, they couldn't go back there, not tonight. With a tense breath, they started downstairs, intent on finding something to eat, only to catch sight of movement in the trees. A figure was perched in one of the taller oaks overlooking their home, one that vanished in a flicker of blue a moment later. Well fuck... nothing was ever easy, was it?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, let's see what our transported character is up to.  
> Hiding things they don't want Sans going through, fair enough.  
> Making plans to avoid getting dunked on, makes sense.  
> Glances at the end of the chapter....  
> 0_o  
> Oh... oh no... they're really messed up in the head aren't they?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Undertale owned by Toby Fox

The next few days passed at a snail's pace. There was too much to do, too many things to worry about. They had to gather more information, avoid making any suspicious movements. Granted, they'd already aroused Sans' curiosity, which was a dangerous fucking thing. But for the time being, he was only curious, only suspicious. They had to make sure that curiosity and suspicion didn't develop into full blown paranoia or worse. The study was their first priority. If Sans knew where they lived, knew where they kept their information, he would have easy access to everything they needed most to keep from him.

Their archive was dangerous, it had to be moved, hidden, concealed. Ideally, they would have taken it to one of their many smuggler's holes or sparrow dens. There was no guarantee any of them still existed and they couldn't afford to show their hand so easily. Sans was likely to be monitoring them. They knew his sleep patterns, it was clear enough that they were dealing with a Sans classic, they could out maneuver him. At least... for a time. Still, moving the archive would be a lengthy process. It would take time, too much time and they wouldn't be able to do so subtly.

So, they'd started experimenting with their magic, testing the limits they'd grown so painfully used to. It was far weaker than the overwhelming power their ancestors had commanded, but they'd felt a muted thrill of excitement when they discovered that they had an inventory. The problem of where to keep their archive was resolved, especially when they discovered, with a quiet flush of satisfaction, that their personal pocket dimension was far larger than the standard set by Undertale. Either inventories were just larger in general than the small eight bit game led them to believe, or they were defined by the amount of magic at a person's disposal.

They were stronger than the average monster, scratch that, magic-kin. The term monster, while politically accurate, as far as the Dreemurr people concerned themselves.... Was originally an insult, a racial slur. They wouldn't partake, even if it would get them strange looks in the future. Magic-kin, then. They were stronger than the average magic-kin, certainly stronger than most humans, though the condition of their soul left much to be desired. The world they originally came from was near tailored to work against their kind, it was no surprise they were in such a deplorable state. Though, if nothing else, they were good at hiding it... The Schrodinger's cat effect as they liked to think of it, their secret racial passive in gamer terms, made it relatively easy to hide their condition.

As long as they didn't want to be noticed, they wouldn't be. Of course, it only worked so long as they avoided directly interacting with other people. Running around flailing their arms and screaming would still attract attention, even if they were pointedly focusing on their secret little ace. Still, it had been enough to get them through the city the night before, even in a blind panic.... though, it hadn't been enough to hide them from Sans. That, in and of itself was concerning, though given his sensitivity to temporal anomalies, predictable.

The perks of being a living breathing essay on quantum physics wouldn't help them, at least, not as much as they wanted it to.... If anything, it would make things more difficult. Sans had ample reason to distrust anyone who didn't live bound to linear time by ball and chain. They would have to be careful, keep that little perk of their existence a secret as best they could. Maybe they could skew it in some way, make him come up with his own explanations, ones that didn't involve meeting the business end of an energy cannon... Raw magic... theoretically, they could siphon it away and add it to their stores of magical energy. But in practice.... no, not an option, there was no guarantee that their soul could handle that much hostile intent. Then, there was also Sans' passive ability to consider.

The data they had concerning purple magic was scattered at best, unique to almost every other timeline. In some it was blatant poison, in others karma was just that. Did it differentiate between a target with high LV and low EXP or did it attack high LV targets indiscriminately? Not enough data, they would have to determine which AU they'd landed in and narrow down the timelines from there. The easiest way to do that would be to find someone willing to allow them access to their magic signature so they could scry the timeline. Easiest, but not safe by any means. That route would blow their cover and immediately attract Sans' attention, triggering his fight or flight response which would likely end with very many sharp things being flung in their direction _if_ he was feeling _amiable._ So, that plan was as good as scrapped.

After tucking away the last of their books, a sense of emptiness settled over them as they let their gaze sweep over the bare shelves of their study. Every book had been hand written, bound personally, prepared with the utmost of care. They'd taken pride in it when they'd finally run out of room. Of course, the suddenly very empty study would raise red flags from Sans. More than likely when he returned for a more thorough investigation. They weren't naive enough to believe that he'd respect their personal space or sacred places. The moment they left their home, it would be open season on everything they had to their name. He wouldn't leave any stone unturned, any room untouched.

The rest of their incriminating personal effects ended up sharing a similar fate to their archive. Ceremonial armor for the darkest night? Hidden in their inventory. Medical supplies with echoes of magic? Vaulted. Anything related to magic or their culture? Tucked away where no one could see it. The sudden absence left them feeling hollow. In all their years, the one solace they'd found was in the secrets of the ancients. Now, it was like they were cutting themself off from the most important part of them. It hurt, more than they'd expected it to. It was fine, this was a temporary measure, at least until they could solidify their position in this timeline.

They paced over to their bed after emptying their closet and quietly summoned a clean uniform for their bar, staring down at the crest embroidered over the front. The uniform itself was incriminating in may aspects, but they couldn't exactly change costume choices without arousing suspicion. They lifted the bright white tabard and ran their fingers over delicate stitch work, feeling a little less alone. The mark of a guardian, a heavy thing, a burden as well as an honor. It wasn't that elaborate, two large feathered wings circling protectively around an orb with a delicate circlet hovering above it, all of it embroidered in gold. The centerpiece for a traditional wardrobe that they could only wear because The Elderbrew existed. Was it wrong that they felt so horrified by the thought of never wearing it again?

With a bitter sigh, they started getting dressed, allowing their mind to pick apart their current situation while they stared down at the rest of the uniform. They were expected to appear sometime around eight a.m. to open the doors, breakfast would be prepared and served between the hours of nine and noon. They slipped into a pair of stark white breeches and slid on a pair of matching soft cured boots. The lock box and stand would need to be dealt with before then. Lunch would come after that between the hours of two and five, drinks would be available before and all through the lunch hours. Non alcoholic beverages would be advertised and customers would be cut off early if they insisted on something heavier in order to avoid anyone acting unruly in front of children or young adults.

One quick motion whisked away any signs of lint and they started preparing the bindings that would keep their breeches from getting in the way or ending up stained if something happened and they needed to move quickly. The result was what looked like white wrappings circling around their lower shins, leaving their boots mostly hidden. From their ankles to the bottoms of their feet were the only sections of their footwear that could be seen. Some would call it a waste, not that they cared. Showing off boots or extra leg was a waste of time and pure arrogance or narcissism talking, in their opinion at least. If something was more efficient, it only made sense to save time and effort.

After five p.m. drinks wouldn't be restricted quite as much. Preparing dinner would be their priority but they would still allow their patrons to order what they wanted from the bar. If a full family appeared with children in tow, they would be escorted to the loft where they could be separate from the lower floor where the rowdier crowd would be seated. Food would be served between the hours of seven and eleven, extended at their discretion should it seem as though one of their patrons needed something to help with the alcohol in their system. With a deep breath, they took up their tabard and quickly slipped it on over an undershirt, smoothing it out while they stared down at the head covering that came with it.

After they closed for the night... they could perhaps visit one of the after dark libraries that remained open for night owls and insomniacs. It wasn't the best place to start, but until they could find some free time to exploit, it would have to work. They picked up the head covering and allowed their gaze to sweep over the swirling designs of golden thread curling around the sides and over areas where it concealed the seams and folds in a blinding plain of white. It would stretch their timetable farther than they wanted or felt comfortable permitting. But as long as they avoided making any suspicious movements and stuck to a strict schedule, it wouldn't be a problem.

Sans didn't know enough about them, he wouldn't realize that their visits to the library were out of the ordinary and that meant they could exploit his ignorance to at least some degree. As long as they avoided triggering his fight or flight response, they could take their time. If they could prove themself an invaluable ally, Sans wouldn't be a problem. And to do that... they really would need more information on their current timeline. But if nothing else, their interactions with Sans the night before had given them direction. He'd shown his hand, given away far too much information from the very beginning. They had a plan of action now, a guaranteed measure to secure his cooperation, his favor.

The young skeleton was perhaps the biggest threat to their survival in this world. Making an enemy of Sans Gaster was not an option, they had to make him an ally. And towards that end, they would do the impossible. They were going to recover a soul scattered across time and space, they were going to retrieve his father. And in doing so, they would secure their place as an important part of the timeline, an irreplaceable, integral piece of his _quaint_ little _happily ever after._ If he discovered the truth about them and their capabilities.... if nothing else, they could use that much as leverage.

One simple motion had the covering perched neatly in place, concealing their eyes from view as a small smirk twitched quietly and dangerously at the edges of their lips. Yes, he wouldn't want to risk the new _anomaly_ deciding that it wasn't worth the effort in the next reset. They would let him believe that they were just as quick to anger, just as _temperamental_ as Flowey or Chara. His skittish reactions to loud noises made it clear that he'd lived through enough genocide routes to be wary of them. The thought of Sans being afraid of them left a sour taste in their mouth. A frown slowly blanched their features of any and all life. There was a feeling, something distant that made them ~~regret~~ annoyed. But sometimes, it was better to be feared than loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who are wondering, yes, they're kinda... not really all there...  
> Or more accurately, they're present in all the wrong ways?  
> This character has seen some s*** and hasn't dealt with it all that well.  
> You will learn more in later chapters... with any luck.  
> Also, if you're wondering how they know Gaster is 1: Sans' father and 2: Not a bad guy.... well...  
> If this version of Sans was tortured and experimented on by his Gaster equivalent, the stand would have been a smouldering pile of splinters before they had a chance to blink.  
> The father bit is just their assumptions and personal head cannon talking.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans has a bad time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Undertale owned by Toby Fox

They hadn't left the house since the festival of night and Sans was starting to get frustrated. He hadn't been able to sneak back inside to look at their library or do any hands on investigating despite his rising impatience. On the bright side, he had managed to confirm that they were human, or that they appeared to be at least... Unless the skeleton from the night before was another person. That was still a possibility. But given how out of the way the place was and the fact that he'd only ever seen the same figure dressed in white since then, it didn't seem likely... Unless they'd dusted him, that was also a possibility... he really didn't want to think of that.

No one ever visited, did anyone even know that there was a house out here? By the second day he was so fed up that he'd started asking around town about them. No one knew anything. "Oh? That gated property out in the woods? I didn't think anyone lived there." No matter where he went, no matter who he asked, it was always the same. "What? That place? Yeah, I know about it. Was all over in the papers a few years back, some eccentric bought the land and wanted to do all the building themself. The city made a huge stink about it. A name? Huh... sorry bud, you're asking the wrong person."

Dead end after dead end. He didn't have a name or an address, he didn't have anything to work with. Oh, he'd certainly found an address in the city's hall of records, but there was nothing on the building's resident... Just a blank space where there should have been a name or a bunch of jumbled text implying that the file was corrupted. He'd tried to find hard copies of course but that hadn't gotten him anywhere either. The papers he found on the property were all damaged in one way or another, making it impossible to find a stars damn name! Every time he thought he found something... It was written in something that got washed away because of a roof leak last week, burned in an accident a few months back, eaten away by moth larvae!

Was this some kind of fucked up prank? Did the universe just hate him? Why was it so hard to find any information on one stupid person who was apparently involved in some big dispute with city hall a few years back? There should have been records about something like that right? What about the papers? It couldn't be that every single stars damn copy was worthless! But he hadn't been able to find the aforementioned paper, couldn't find a single news article that mentioned them. He'd even broken into the city's registry! Which was, technically illegal... Most of the computer files that contained information pertaining to land ownership and building permits were either corrupted or missing. That was fine, he would just go through the filing cabinets in the basement and.... The name on the page was blotched with ink, as if something had been spilled over it. Another dead end and no matter how hard he looked, his every effort was always futile.

Eventually he'd ended up back where he'd first seen them, staring at the empty booth balefully as the last stragglers took apart their own stands. Someone caught him staring and walked up to him, a clip board in hand. "You wouldn't happen to know the owner, would you?" Sans blinked for a moment and broke away from his silent staring contest with the inanimate object, still irritated. They must have been one of the administrators for the event, probably having trouble dealing with who ever hadn't taken down their booths yet. He was a rabbit monster, which definitely didn't help his case.

A six and a half foot tall ball of blue fluff wearing coveralls and a hard hat, brilliant. Well, at least some humans might think he looked cute and go easy on him... Huh... that was probably why he'd gotten the job. With a bitter sigh, he just shrugged haphazardly, sticking his hands in his hoodie pockets as he turned to face the guy directly. "Nah, don't suppose you've seen 'em? Got a bone to pick with 'em myself, kinda' ghosted me last night."

Hardly missing a beat, the rabbit monster flipped a few pages on the clip board with a bright smile and squinted at something that was written there, glancing back up at the booth before answering him. "Not yet, but this booth is registered to The Elderbrew. It's a small business but it's owner's supposed to be a stand up person, can't imagine why they haven't shown up yet." Sans frowned, mind flashing back to the way they'd been shaking the last time he'd seen them in the mask, the reckless driving. Oh, he had a few ideas about why they hadn't come back.

Movement caught in his peripheral vision, he flinched and then turned back towards the stand. There they were, fluffing out a length of cloth that must have acted as part of their booth's roof and settling it against the well trod ground in front of them. He couldn't see their eyes, half of their face was covered by some kind of veil thing and they were dressed like they'd just stepped out of a fantasy book. But he knew it was them, he couldn't sense their soul, couldn't read their stats and no one else seemed to notice them.

It wasn't until they'd started dismantling the stand, which appeared to be fit together like a puzzle, that the rabbit monster he'd been speaking to finally noticed them. Following his gaze, he'd spotted them taking apart the stand and perked immediately, walking up to them like it was the most normal thing in the world. They had a brief conversation, he checked something off his list and then walked away, leaving the figure in white to complete their task alone. Sans didn't know what to do. He'd been searching for information on them all day long and found zilch.

He could walk up to them, try talking to them. Ask about Gaster, let this whole thing spiral out of control. But now that they were right in front of him, he felt like he'd been put on the spot. They set down the next chunk of wood and looked up at him, it felt like they were staring right through his soul. The next thing he knew, he was stumbling into a tree in the Snowdin forest, trembling and terrified. Cold shocks raced through his bones, he dropped to his knees, suddenly retching.

Damn it! They'd only looked at him, it wasn't like they'd threatened anyone! They hadn't even been within twenty feet of him for crying out loud! But... they were a human. A human that didn't make any sense, one that he couldn't read, couldn't predict. _Red eyes boring down on him, a knife parting vertebrae._ He gagged, magic streaming between his teeth and turning the snow in front of him to a slushy mess. His breathing was picking up, this was bad, he was having a panic attack and he was alone.

Trembling, he covered his teeth with one hand and quickly patted down his coat for his phone, leaning against the tree, focusing on the feeling of flaking bark. Where, where was... a small sound, low and hissing and pitiful. It took him a few seconds to realize that it was him. He pressed a sleeve into his teeth, trying to ground himself, trying to muffle himself if nothing else. He finally found his phone, tears streaming down his face. _A red scarf buried in the snow, scattered_ _armor_ _covered in **dust**._

Sans pressed speed dial, shuddering in relief when Papyrus answered after the third ring. His brother dropped his usual schpiel the instant he heard him whimpering on the other end. Then Papyrus, dear, wonderful, pure, perfect Papyrus, the light of his life, was asking him where he was. Doing his best to talk him down, going on and on about any number of stupid, silly little things that had happened in the past few days... Distracting him from his panic after he'd managed to choke out that he was near the door to the Ruins.

Papyrus didn't ask him why he was there, didn't ask what had caused the panic attack, didn't complain about the long trek to come and get him. He simply kept talking, giving him something else to focus on, reminding him where they were, that the barrier was gone, that everything was finally going to be okay.... Except... it wasn't... _A figure clad in white and gold, an unfamiliar sigil that looked eerily similar to the delta rune._ Wrong, it was all wrong! It wasn't the delta rune!

Where had they come from? Who were they? Why didn't anyone know anything about them? Everyone knew everyone in Sorren! There weren't any strangers! If someone new came into town, everyone knew about it! His mind snagged on something the rabbit monster had said, a name. The Elderbrew.... someone knew something about them and now he had a lead. By the time Papyrus finally got to him, Sans had managed to calm down with the help of his constant chatter and the realization that he finally had something to work with.

Soul pulsing with exhaustion... for once, his brother didn't scold him for being lazy. But then.... he never did when it came to his panic attacks. Instead, he simply pulled him into a piggy back and let him doze off against him as the steady rocking motion of him walking up the path lulled Sans into a hazy half asleep stupor. He'd been calm when his brother showed up, but feeling Papyrus' magic humming in the air around him did more to ease his weary soul than any soft words or delicate reassurances ever could. His brother was safe... his brother was alive. And he would do **_anything_ **to keep it that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _*Megolovania starts playing*_  
>  Well fuck....
> 
> Also, if you're wondering why he didn't check computerized records....  
> Of course he did!  
> I just didn't bother saying it directly because it was already implied. XD  
> Eh... maybe I'll edit that anyway...
> 
> Changed it a little bit.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We finally get to see the Elderbrew!  
> And it turns out Sans is a lot better at staying calm when he's not alone... huh... go figure.  
> On a side note, talk about amazing acting skills from our transported character!  
> I wouldn't even know they were messed up in the head if I didn't know already!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Undertale owned by Toby Fox

The Elderbrew was a small business just as the rabbit monster said but its renown was something else entirely. The tavern was widely popular with all manner of people and he couldn't find a bad review about the place. Sans wasn't convinced it was as innocent as it seemed. Especially when, surprise, surprise, the owner turned out to be that same mysterious person in white. How did he know for certain? Simple, he couldn't find their name anywhere and the only pictures of them he could find were dated the same day as his panic attack. So, naturally, that meant they were the same person or it at least made it a very strong possibility that they were. He'd have to do a little hands on evaluation himself to be sure of it. But if nothing else, a busy tavern with lots of people around would be a half decent safety net in case they got aggressive.

There were a few stories of the owner throwing out rowdy teenagers who took their flirting a bit too far or similar tales of drunks from other bars being locked outside after causing problems with their regulars. But there was nothing that painted them in a bad light, at least, nothing credible. With such a good reputation, it was unlikely they would risk making a move in front of their patrons. That made visiting less risky, though going alone was out of the question. Even if he had more HP and a bit more wiggle room, there was a reason this sort of thing was done in pairs.

Having someone to watch his back would be a good idea, even if nothing went wrong in the end. A second person would further discourage any impulsive moves and the last thing he wanted was to be the one who made Frisk reset again. There was no guarantee the kid would be the one in control once the clock rolled back. Heck, the demon could interfere with a simple load and send them all back to the underground again if they weren't careful. Relying on them as a safety net was the epitome of _nope._ Not happening, wouldn't do it, no matter how bad things looked. And they looked _bad._ The only other time he'd seen anything like this was... _burned research notes, shattered picture frames, a blurred figure in their family photos, a missing last name... Every mention of him gone, every sign of him erased, his name forgotten._

Only... they weren't gone, not like he was... Maybe... maybe they were somehow similar? Maybe something happened and they were able to fix it somehow? Gaster was gone, but... he wasn't dead. Sans was certain of that much, even if his efforts to recover the old man had come to dead end after dead end. If they were similar... maybe... Maybe he could find a way to earn their trust, get close to them, find out what they knew. It would be risky, hell, this whole thing stunk. But.... _Trusting orbits staring up at him, a simple question, naive and soft. "Where's daddy?"_ No, if there was even the smallest chance at finding their father... he owed Papyrus that much. He could try at the very least, even if just being near them had given him a panic attack last time. And... he had just the right person in mind, to watch his back.

Grillby didn't have a whole lot to do these days, at least, not while Asgore was still dealing with the last few political hurdles involved in monsters owning their own businesses. As it turned out, human politicians were more willing to extend basic rights to them then they were to allow any of them something as simple as opening up a hot dog stand. A lot of them threw around health and dietary concerns, questioning if food imbued with magic was actually safe for human consumption. Of course, it was obvious enough that they were just stalling, wasting time, blocking off important societal changes out of pure spite if nothing else. None of them had been all that accepting or enthusiastic over the thought of working together with monsters. The only reason they'd even given Asgore a time of day was because of the overwhelming amount of support from a majority of the world rallying behind the _refugees_ who came from under the mountain.

There was still a lot of racism and fear as well, but society in general had matured a lot more in the past few centuries than any of them had expected. Which was what led him to that moment when he was walking beside the elemental, following a number of not so copacetic looking wooden signs pointing down back alleys towards what was apparently the Elderbrew. Getting Grillby to agree wasn't all that hard, especially once he'd mentioned it was supposed to be some kind of re-enactment place built to imitate an old tavern from the mid evil ages. There'd definitely been a spark of interest in the old bartender's eyes and he'd even seemed sort of excited by the prospect of taking a quick look at the place himself. Sans hadn't had the heart to tell him why they were _really_ there.

The twisting alleys led them to a narrow passage between two buildings where an archway opened up in the middle of a dead end. Sunlight streamed from the other side, a whispering breeze flowing over them, carrying with it the scent of wood smoke and wildflowers. Stepping out of the alleyway was like walking into a fantasy world or some kind of magician's workshop. Dirty brickwork vanished beneath a mat of verdant green, healthy moss, creeping charley and fresh mint intermingling in a way that must have taken ages to propagate. Brilliant white flowers and yellow lilies interspersed with deep purple carnations lined a cobbled pathway of white and pale grey leading up to a two story building of wood and stone.

Large windows criss crossed and checkered with patterns of delicate metal faced the pathway, heavy storm shutters hugging the sides of the building, left open to give it a cottage like appearance. A lazy wisp of smoke trailed up from something resembling a chimney, adding the final touch on something that looked entirely out of place. Creeping ivy crawled up the sides of the buildings that surrounded the place, concealing the dirty brickwork beneath a curtain of green. If Sans hadn't known any better, he would have forgotten where they were.

But he could still hear the distant sounds of traffic, even muffled as they were in small boxed in space where the tavern resided. Grillby crackled with amusement beside him, roughing a hand against his skull briefly before starting up the path. There was a teasing lilt to his voice, sparks flicking away from him softly as he let his gaze sweep over the carefully cultivated garden. "Well, this looks promising." The elemental looked... oddly at home in their surroundings. Briefly, Sans wondered what it would look like at night, if fireflies lived in the boxed in little sanctuary... Only to shake off such thoughts and hurry to catch up with his friend. This place seemed to have a way of making one fanciful, he'd have to watch that.

The inside of the tavern proper was just as it appeared from the outside. Massive circular chandeliers of wrought iron provided light for the building, secured above them amidst exposed rafters. Candle light flickered gently from far above, dim enough for the time being, though the sight of burners along the walls of the building suggested better lighting would be provided after dark. Large round tables dominated the lower floor, smaller more private tables standing off to the sides or lingering under the two stairways leading to a loft above the bar.

The bar itself was rather simple, if familiar to at least some degree. It was made up almost entirely of dark wood, stools of an identical material lining the bar, vacant for the time being. Behind it stood a wall of liquor bottles, all of them devoid of labels or markings. The bar wasn't manned at the moment either which was mildly concerning. Was the owner really that confident that no one would try stealing from them? Or did they just trust their patrons that much? As if to answer his question, a figure in white was sweeping out of a doorway hidden in shadows behind the bar, a wooden platter in hand with three steaming bowls perched atop it. They stopped briefly at the bar and filled three mugs out of separate bottles from under the counter, nodding to the two of them with a soft smile as they swept on towards a table off to the side of the stairs. "Be with you in a moment, please, sit where ever you like."

Sans still couldn't sense a soul, still couldn't read their stats... but... he _could_ sense emotion rolling away from them. It was gentle and soft, welcoming, cheerful, kind. Something was wrong. If he couldn't sense their soul, why was he feeling emotion coming off of them? Trailing behind Grillby, he took a seat at one of the tables in the center of the lower floor, overly self conscious of the fact that most of the other patrons were all humans. The figure in white swept past them, depositing a pair of menus in front of them that definitely weren't made of paper.

Before they could get all that far, his friend raised a hand to get their attention and as if actually seeing him, they doubled back to their table. Sans hadn't even noticed that Grillby had been scanning through the menu already until after he was pointing to something and speaking to them. "Pardon, but these names..." The owner huffed lightly, almost as if concealing a chuckle, their smile growing into something more amused than anything else. "I suppose dragon's blood might be a bit alarming. It's fine, just a little bit of added flair for people who like the fantasy element." The elemental nodded thoughtfully before scanning the menu again, tilting his head as he returned his attention to them. "And if I wanted a heavier drink, what would you suggest?"

This seemed to give them pause, they peered at the menu for a moment and hummed softly before pointing to something that Sans couldn't see. "That depends mostly on your preference. If you're looking for effect, then there are a few different kinds of whisky, rum and bourbon specifically. But if you prefer a mix between flavor and effect, dead man's blight has a musky flavor similar to cherries without the added sourness you'd typically expect. It masks the alcohol rather well and has an after taste similar to the scent of roses. It also has the effect of making your mouth go numb for about twenty minutes afterwards." They paused for a few seconds, their lips pursing thoughtfully as though they were reconsidering something. "Or... it does to humans at least. Other than that, dragon's blood might be a close second. It has undertones of oak and basil with an overall flavor pallet that is vaguely similar to cinnamon with a burn like sarano that quickly chases it."

Seemingly pleased, Grillby nodded softly and ordered the dragon's blood as well as the tavern special. Sans felt like a deer in headlights when they turned to him, tilting their head slightly as if waiting for him to order his own meal. Well shit, he'd have to pretend he was actually reading through the menu. A quick glance and he'd made up his mind, though he had a feeling he'd probably regret it later. "Uhm... I'll have the tavern special too, with a bloody mary." At Grillby's reproachful stare, he quickly amended. "One with no alcohol in it, if that's fine."

Instead of asking any questions, they simply nodded and turned back towards the kitchen with a smile. They didn't sound like some kind of evil demon beast when they started on their way, their voice trailing behind them pleasantly. "Right away boys." And they were gone, leaving him feeling mildly unsettled. At least Grillby looked happy... or not... there was definitely some sort of tension in the set of his shoulders now that he was actually looking a bit more closely. A tension that seemed to get ever so subtly worse once the owner swept back out of the kitchens to revisit the bar, another two steaming bowls perched on their little serving tray.

A loud call from across the tavern snapped at his attention, something brash and chased with the cheerfulness of someone's third heavy drink. "Hey barkeep! How's about a song for the newcomers?!?" The figure in white chuckled softly, straightening after preparing the drinks for him and Grillby, hefting the platter with a soft smirk. They sounded amused, they looked amused, he could almost convince himself that they were. "Got any prefrences this time Gables?"

The drunkard stumbled over himself for a few minutes, still cheery but unsure, probably a bit too deep in his drink to think clearly. "Tha' uh... that one drinking song." They shook their head softly as they served him and Grillby, a chuckle on the edge of their breath. "You realize how many drinking songs there are, right? You'll have to be more specific." He finally managed to put a face to the voice, it was an elderly guy in roughed up clothes that made it look like this was his third bar that day. Unkempt grey and white hair, heavy beard and flushed cheeks, yup, stereotypical drunkard. The guy frowned down at his mug like it held the answers he was looking for, seeming frustrated and lost for a few seconds. Then he huffed in embarrassment and muttered a few words, quickly falling silent again and burying his face in his drink. "Hey ho and to the bottle I go?"

The barkeep's smile grew from amused to beaming, seeming pleased by what ever the guy had said. Then they turned away, making their rounds, cleaning tables and refilling drinks as their voice carried through the tavern. It was odd, fluctuating between masculine and feminine in a way that made it hard for him to decide which was more pronounced. Of course, the way they kept switching vocals didn't help either, it was more like a strange sort of duet than a solo performance. "Ho ro and to the bottle I go, to heal my heart and drown my woe. Rain may fall and wind may blow but there still be... many miles to go."

It was an oddly soothing sound, something that made him distantly wistful, lulling him into a sense of... wait... "Sweet is the sound of the pouring rain and the river that runs from hill to plain. Sweeter than rain or rippling brook, is the mug of beer that brings me luck." That feeling.... "Ho ro and to the bottle I go, to heal my heart and drown my woe. Rain may fall and wind may blow but still there be... many miles to go." It was light and bubbly, rippling through the air in an unnatural way. "Neath the tall tree I now lie and watch the clouds go rolling by. With me mug in me hand and me mates at me sides, the bitterer stouts never left me dry."

It was just like Shyren's singing, casting a blanket of wistful fancy over everyone who heard it. "Ho ro and to the bottle I go, to heal my heart and drown my woe. Rain may fall and wind may blow but there still be... many miles to go." It was magic, he was certain of it. "Jack fell down and Jill ran away, the bottle's claimed two fools today. Feels like magic when you drink it in the night but when morning comes you feel like shite." None of the other patrons seemed to notice that anything was wrong, chuckling, smiling, laughing at the lyrics. Only Grillby seemed able to tell that something was out of the ordinary. His flames were churning slowly, a wary lilt of brighter oranges and subtle reds twisting through his form. "Ho ro and to the bottle I go, to heal my heart and drown my woe. Rain may fall and wind may blow but there still be... many miles to go."

They weren't even trying to hide it! What was wrong with them?!? They were openly flaunting the fact that they had magic, something that was so ridiculously rare among mankind. The only human he'd ever seen or heard of having magic these days was Frisk and stars knew how well that turned out! "A malty red or a bitter dark stout, pale ale sweet without a doubt. Never mix your ports with your brandy wines and be wary of the woman that's bearing steins." They left a glass of water on the table next to the drunkard, flashing him an apologetic smile that said _sorry you're done for the night._ He seemed a little disappointed, but too invested in the singing to bother complaining about it.

"Ho ro and to the bottle I go, to heal my heart and drown my woe. Rain may fall and wind may blow but there still be... many miles to go." A brief frown flickered across their face when they turned back towards the two of them, though it was quickly swept away a moment later. Instead of commenting on their apparent discomfort, the tavern keep simply clapped their hands together and returned to work, letting the song continue on unbothered with a slightly more playful lilt to it. "My leg's unsteady... my mind's at play. How many ales have I had today? My knees wobble, I slip and fall..." They trailed off briefly, then spun around with a much brighter smile on their face.

The feeling in the air intensified, radiating joviality, playfulness, amusement. "But I'll get my next bitter if I have to crawl!" Then they were right back to the song again, letting it continue on unhurried into the last lines of the chorus, slipping back into the kitchen with the last word. Their magic lingered in the air, light and energetic. To Sans, it felt more like a threat than an invitation to stay a while and enjoy his afternoon. He was suddenly very worried about what was in his drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song they sing is: Hey ho to the bottle I go.  
> It's a song loosely based off of the song that Mary and Pippin sing in lord of the rings.  
> I made a few adjustments to the lyrics myself, but the overall extended edition of the song is something I found on youtube from a small group in... Slovenia?  
> I don't know... It just sounded nice and I've had it stuck in my head for months now.  
> I'd link it in the notes but I can't remember if that's something you're allowed to do on this site. ^^'


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something goes wrong at The Elderbrew.  
> Sans almost has a panic attack and learns a bit more about our transported character.  
> And a few rowdy drunks get thrown out of the tavern.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Undertale owned by Toby Fox

He couldn't remember how he'd gotten into this mess. True, Sans could recall the plans he'd made, the information he'd gathered on The Elderbrew and its owner... But things had been going smoothly more or less, despite his initial alarm when he found out they actually had magic. It was a shock, it was unsettling, it was terrifying. But with Grillby there, he'd been able to avoid fleeing the instant they vanished into the back rooms. He was still uneasy but after the elemental had started on his own drink and tested the _tavern special,_ it was obvious that there was nothing inherently harmful in anything they'd been brought.

And when he'd tasted the bloody mary he'd been given.... well, it was hard not to relax a little bit after that. Sans didn't know how they did it, but it tasted perfect. He wouldn't have changed anything and the magic inside of it? It was unbelievable, warm and gentle, uplifting, pure. Then there was the sheer amount if it, hitting heavy and hard with a sudden surge of energy and soothing intent that was damn near intoxicating in and of itself. He'd been very glad there wasn't any alcohol in his drink, it would have been impossible to keep his guard up if there was.

The singing didn't help either. A few of their regulars made some more requests about songs he'd never heard of and damn if they weren't good at their job. The soothing sound of their voice flitting back and forth between english and some strange language he'd never heard before had him loosing himself in the lighthearted atmosphere around him. Maybe that was where he'd messed up. He'd let his guard down, started enjoying himself as if he were back at Grillby's again. That was obviously a mistake now that he thought about it. The two of them had fallen into old habits, he'd started joking, laughing, forgetting where he was.

And the next thing he knew, some human reeking of booze and something foul had him by the front of his hoodie, screaming in his face. The guy wasn't making any sense, something about demons and filth and how dare they take up space meant for law abiding citizens or something of the like. Sans wasn't paying attention, he was too busy trying to grip onto his hoodie to keep the sweater from putting too much pressure on his cervical vertebrae. This was bad. The owner must have slipped into the back rooms to get someone's order or fetch something because they definitely weren't seeing what was happening.

Grillby couldn't take action, one wrong move and the human could go from just being aggressive to violent. Fucking hell, he only had one HP and using magic against humans was still illegal. Asgore was working on it but it would be a political disaster if him or Grillby did something and the dipshit ended up injured. The asshole shook him by the front of his hoodie, shouting at him, demanding he answer, demanding to know if he was actually paying attention to him. He... didn't know exactly what happened next. Sans was a little bit too busy trying not to devolve into a full blown panic attack, struggling to keep his breathing even, struggling not to slip into a dissociative state.

All he knew was that one moment the human was threatening him and the next, the owner was there with a hand on the guy's arm. There was movement, he saw their knuckles turn white and suddenly he was hitting the floor while the drunk asshat cried out in pain. Then, Grillby was there, trying to talk him down, reassuring him that it was alright, that the owner was dealing with it. He wasn't paying attention. The only thing he could focus on was the sudden killing intent that was radiating away from the figure in white.

If it was any less visceral, any less hostile, he would have called it murderous. But no... he couldn't even degrade it to that level. Sans was aware of the fact that he was shaking as he watched them stalk towards the three humans, absolutely convinced that they were going to kill them right then and there. He flinched when their voice cut through the air, low and venomous, rippling with an energy that was complete overkill for a simple warning. **"The Elderbrew does not tolerate racism. Get out!"** And the drunks were scrambling over themselves to get away, barely escaping out the open door by the time the owner reached it. They stood there for several seconds, every line of their figure rigid, radiating malice and hostility.

The door slammed, the feeling in the air lifted, he could breathe for the first time since they came to his rescue. While they were straightening up again, he took a chance to glance at his HP, startled by the sight of his defensive attribute. His stats were all ones, maxed out at a pitiful number that wouldn't help him in any real fight. But for just an instant before they turned back to him, his defense sat showed up at seven hundred and twelve. Then, it was flickering back to normal, leaving him startled and uneasy. Had they done that? Had they boosted his defense stat in order to protect him from harm? He hadn't noticed. Just how many tricks did this stranger have in their arsenal?

At first, he had no idea what they wanted as they walked back towards him and Grillby. Maybe they were going to blame the two of them for the disturbance? Throw them out as well for added measure? The one thing he wasn't expecting was for them to ask if he was hurt or the genuine concern he felt radiating away from them. Was it genuine? It felt like the real deal and... damn it, he couldn't help it. He was grateful, relieved, maybe even a little hopeful. They were dangerous, they'd definitely proven that much. But... they'd cared enough to stand up for him.

So, of course he'd interrupted them when they started talking about painkillers. Even if he _hadn't_ felt it necessary to thank them, he was still jittery from the entire ordeal to begin with. So... it wasn't all that surprising when he let a pun slip into his conversation with them, feeling a little better when they froze up and snorted slightly. "Eh, s'fine, no skin off my back." Then they were speaking up to question him, possibly inquire as to whether or not he'd hit his head or something. "Did you seriously just..." But of course, he wouldn't let go of an opportunity like this.

They liked puns? That was perfect, he had lots of them and more than enough reason to let loose now. "I mean, tibia honest I was a bit rattled there for a sec, but you came in the head of the moment." They laughed, they actually laughed and it was like a weight lifted off of his shoulders. No one who could laugh at bad jokes like that and mean it could be all that bad. Maybe... maybe something good came out of all of this after all. But they didn't stick around and let him entertain them with bad puns any longer, either content that he was feeling better or too worried about their other patrons to stick around.

Instead, they turned back around and addressed the tavern as a whole while Grillby helped get him back on his feet. "Alright folks, prohibition rules tonight. No one leaves alone and everyone passes through The Elder's Rest to get home." Sans didn't understand all of what they said, something about parking arrangements and a few other things, but it made sense if nothing else. On the off chance that those drunks were hanging around, it made sense to lay out a few ground rules for anyone who would be leaving any time soon.

The owner had a brief chat with Grillby, of which he only caught a few snippets. Something about an inn and owning the whole city block...? Yikes... Then, they were slipping back into the kitchen again, leaving the two of them to their own devices. They came back to check on the two of them a few more times and then they were politely informing them that they would have to leave for the evening. It wasn't like they were throwing them out, though in retrospect it meant about the same thing. Of course, before asking them to pay, they had mentioned that they preferred not to serve.... magic kin? The fuck? After dark, as they were worried for their safety on the way home due to the fact that not everyone was accepting of them.

Apparently, they considered monsters as some kind of high risk group or something and didn't like seeing them navigating the alleys during the evening hours. Honestly, it was a little long winded but understandable. He and Grillby had to split the bill and the owner escorted them out the back, something grim and protective shadowing them. It would have left him feeling uneasy before, but after what happened in The Elderbrew, it actually made him feel a little bit safer. Especially when he stole a covert glance at his own stats and noticed that his defense was being boosted again. They led the two of them across the patch of green and pulled aside a curtain of ivy, revealing a heavy wooden door.

Apparently prohibition rules meant _sneak your patrons out the back_ or something along the lines of that. The figure in white rolled their knuckles across the door in a rapid rhythm that sounded almost like dice being tossed across a table and a few minutes later, someone opened the door from the other side. A young woman dressed all in white glanced over the three of them, eyes of bright hazel widened and she was quick to usher them inside, muttering quietly to her... boss? ... After slipping passed them to get to the door. "Trouble again? Honestly, never a dull moment these days." Then, she was guiding them down a hallway that looked like it belonged in an old inn from the mid evil ages or something. Not a word was spoken between the three of them, though she did offer them a polite farewell and directions back to where they'd entered. It wasn't much, but at least she wasn't hostile and she'd gotten them back out into the city safely.

Two shortcuts later and after saying farewell to Grillby, Sans was flopping face first into his sheets again, feeling exhausted but hopeful. Yes, the night had taken an unexpected turn and yes, things hadn't gone according to plan. But he'd managed to make contact, evaluated them personally, much more closely than before. It finally hit him when he was just moments away from drifting off... he'd never gotten their name. Suddenly wide awake, he jolted upright again, orbits wide and wisps flickering angrily. A cry of pure frustration left him, bitter and angry. "Fucking hell!" A muffled shout from downstairs had him biting back his own frustrations, flopping into his mattress and burying his face in his pillow with a groan. "LANGUAGE!!!" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since it may not be very common in english these days.  
> When Sans mentioned them coming in the head of the moment, that's head pronounced hE-d as in the froth atop a glass of beer.  
> It's not commonly used anymore and you'd be more likely to find the connection if you searched heady instead but it's just one of those things you'd catch onto in spoken conversations more easily than in written ones.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sans is a stalker and finally realizes it.  
> Also, our transported character finally picks a name!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Undertale owned by Toby Fox

Figuring out the daily schedule for the Elderbrew was much easier than learning its owner's habits. All he had to do to figure out when the tavern opened and when it closed, was walk into the inn and ask. But of course, it had to be right in that irritating part of the day where he was sleeping. Of course, he could always skip, stay awake for a full twenty four hours if necessary.... That wasn't an attractive thought. The nightmares made it difficult enough to sleep when he actually had the time and if he put it off for too long he'd be guaranteed one the moment he dozed off.

Early mornings didn't agree with him, though the Elderbrew's rather strict business hours did offer certain benefits. Or would have, if not for the fact that sneaking into their house didn't reveal anything new. If there ever was anything useful or interesting on their laptop, it had to have been scrubbed. As if to add insult to injury, when he checked the study, all of the shelves were empty. Now, he hadn't been inside that particular room before, but he knew for certain that there should have been at least _one_ book inside.

A lot of things didn't add up about this person and it felt like the house had recently been emptied, in a hurry to. There were no family photos, no paintings, no journals or knickknacks or anything that would suggest the place was even lived in. It looked more like a photo out of a magazine, a building being offered up for sale, save the furnishings in every room. The only interesting thing he'd found was a wine cellar with very real, possibly in the process of fermenting, casks of varying booze. It had everything from standard beer to mead, rum, wine and even a few things that didn't rightly make sense.

There was also a barrel of some kind of gritty black stuff tucked into the back of the cellar. It almost seemed metallic but it was closer to the consistency of sand, in the end he'd decided to take a sample. Alphys still owed him a few favors, he could get it analyzed... hopefully... Then, he'd gone back into town to stake out the Elderbrew and observe its owner more closely. The night ran long, predictably considering the hours of their business. But eventually, they left, locking up, shuttering windows and latching doors.

The figure in white slipped into the maze of alleyways and Sans had to be _very_ careful not to get close enough to be noticed while still being near enough to keep tabs on them. There was no rush despite the late hour, odd, most people would he chomping at the bit to get home already. His thoughts were drawn back to the bare shelves and walls in their home, was there even anything back there that they cared about? Sans was jerked back to the present when he heard the familiar roar of an engine, cursing to himself when the focus of his observations sped off into the city. It was going to be a long night.

Keeping up with them wasn't easy and a feeling like acidic bile settled in his chest when he noticed that they were still wearing that stupid hat. How were they even navigating traffic like that? But, they didn't seem to have any difficulties, weaving smoothly through the throng of activity without anyone taking any notice of them. Then, they were pulling into a nearly abandoned parking lot and putting down their kickstand, securing the bike to make sure no one could take it.

Wait... he... knew this place. It was one of the libraries he went to when his insomnia was too much for him to handle. They disappeared inside and he had to force himself to count to seven hundred before following them. Couldn't be right behind them, had to stagger it, make sure it looked like a coincidence. In the end he might have given it too much time, because when he finally worked up the nerve to go in, he didn't see them in any of the obvious places. Not at the computers running a search for a specific book, not at the front desk speaking with one of the librarians, not amidst the shelves either. Granted, it was harder to pretend he was looking for _something_ instead of _someone_ than he would have liked and that meant he could only move so quickly. But it still shouldn't have been so difficult to catch sight of someone dressed head to toe in white, right?

After what felt like hours of aimless wandering, he finally caught sight of them again, reclining in one of the many plush chairs provided by the library for guests.... in the very back of the library where he should have guessed they'd be. Even having only known them for less than two weeks now, it was still obvious that they didn't like drawing attention to themself.... as contradictory as that seemed. You'd think the owner of the Elderbrew would be more flamboyant and spontaneous, eager for the attention. But outside of work hours, they seemed more reserved, quiet, private... he could relate.

Of course, the book in their hands led to more questions than answers. For starters, how were they even reading it in the first place? The lighting was terrible this far back in the library and they were still wearing that funny little hat thing, a veil of white and gold in front of their eyes. They shouldn't have been able to see a stars damn thing. The title on the book they were reading was also a bit disconcerting. _The great war, a comprehensive guide to monster history._ Were they some kind of history buff in their spare time? It would make sense given their business.

Were they interested in learning more about monsterkind? That would be a pretty fucked up place to start. Did they come here often? Was this their first visit, or had they looked into other topics before this one? ... Only one way to find out. It took all of the courage he had to pace over to them, snatching up a random book from one of the shelves to make it look like he was actually there to waste time. His grin twitched the slightest bit wider and he hugged the book close to his chest, using it as an anchor more than an excuse to start up small talk. "That's a pretty heavy topic for research."

They paused, tilting their head in his direction... Holy fuck that was unnerving. A soft smile flitted across their lips and they tucked a bookmark into the page they were reading, closing the book and hefting it slightly. It was certainly thicker than most of the other books in the library, aside from dictionaries and the like. There was amusement in their voice when they addressed him, though he still couldn't be certain if they were looking at him directly. "Very funny, though I suppose you're not far off the mark."

Wait... had they just? Sans couldn't help it, he snorted, his grin widening fractionally. Why was he even surprised in the first place? Of course, as much as he _wanted_ to follow _that_ train of thought. He was there for a reason. So, Sans paced over to one of the other chairs in the little nook and sat down, regarding them with a curious stare. "So, you're interested in monster history?" They sighed heavily and leaned back in their seat, staring down at the book in their hands with a frown.

There was something quiet and old in their tone of voice, defeated almost, when they answered him. "I can't stay ignorant forever." _Okay! Bad topic! Abort! Abort!_ He cast his gaze around for something, anything he could use for a subject change, his attention drawn to the odd sigil on their uniform. Alright, this could come back to bite him in the coccyx but it was the best he could come up with at the spur of the moment. With a preemptive wince, Sans made that odd noise he'd heard humans use to clear their throats and quickly made an attempt to salvage the situation. "So, uh, the mark on your shirt. It's not the delta rune, where's it from?"

The figure in white paused for a few seconds and turned their attention back to him, a cold shiver passing through him. It almost felt like they were staring straight through him, it wasn't pleasant. Then, as if they'd simply been lost in thought, they answered him, quiet and soft spoken, almost as if worried about being overheard. "It's... old. Older than most of written history. There's only a few mentions of it so I can't tell you where it came from exactly." Sans got the vague feeling that they weren't being entirely honest, but he didn't exactly have a leg to stand on as far as arguments went. Besides, if he tried calling them out on bullshit now, it'd probably ruin any chances of him learning more later. So, as much as he hated leaving it be, he'd leave it alone for the time being.

Of course, that didn't mean he couldn't learn a little bit more in the meantime. Anything he could weasel out of them would be better than nothing, especially if what they said about it being older than most of written history was true. If that was the case, how in hell's name did they know anything about it? Still playing at being completely ignorant, he tilted his skull slightly, trying to keep the suspicion from his eyes. "So, does it mean something? I mean, normally symbols like that are more than just pretty pictures."

Another faint smile flitted across their half covered face and they shifted in their seat, staring up towards the ceiling of the building as if lost in thought. When they finally answered him, their voice was just as soft as before, quiet and distant. "Guardian." There was an odd feeling in the air, something distant and heavy, mournful. It was strange, it was... lonely... It felt like his soul sank lower in his chest, something vaguely similar to pity or sympathy weighing down on him. Why did he feel bad for them all of the sudden? It didn't make sense, it was just some stupid crest, right? It didn't really mean anything, right?

With a heavy breath, he tried pushing it away, quickly attempting to change the subject. "Right... uh... About the other day. I never did get the chance to thank you for... ya' know, savin' my lazy ass. So, uh... thanks, for that... Don't think I ever got yer' name though..." They chuckled softly at that, sighing quietly before turning a bright smile towards him that somehow felt artificial, fake. Something caught in his chest at the sight of it, a knot forming in his magic. Stars, he hoped he was just imagining things. It felt like one of the smiles he was always giving to Papyrus and Grillby or any of the other dozen or so people close enough that they might worry about him.

Something in the air rippled with mischief, their smile taking on a slightly more amused tilt to it. Their voice was dripping with daring, amusement, a teasing lilt to it. "Oh? Really now? You came into my tavern and didn't even know that?" Smug and giddy, they leaned back in their chair again, folding their arms behind their head. It felt like they were making fun of him or reaping the benefits of some long, elaborate prank. Somehow, it was both insulting and entertaining. Thankfully, they didn't leave him hanging for very long, though it wasn't like their answer was very reassuring. "Hmmm.... a name.... I suppose... Animus will do."

Oh, they were definitely messing with him. Animus? What kind of name was that? Definitely not a real one. A nickname at best. Wasn't that Latin for something? His Latin was rusty but it had something to do with the soul or the mind, right? Was it a hint? A clue? Didn't matter.... not at the moment anyway, he could look into it more later. Sans could feel them staring at him, waiting for something. Did they expect some kind of grand reaction or something? Well... he wasn't about to play their game.

Instead of letting on that he found it strange, he simply smiled a little bit wider, forcing a bit of mischief into his own expression. The mirth in his voice came off sounding forced but there wasn't a whole lot he could do about that. Besides, most weren't perceptive enough to tell the difference between when he was faking a smile and when he was genuinely amused by something. It would just have to do. "So, Animus Guardian, huh? Nice name." _Animus_ snorted slightly, picking up their book and rising out of their seat, stretching slightly. There was still a bit of amusement in their tone of voice, their smile looked bigger, more genuine, even if it was still something that would have made a cheshire cat look innocent. "Animus Guardian. I like it... though it doesn't really work that way."

They were leaving already? Damnit, he hadn't learned anything just yet! But what they said next had him looking down at the book in his hands as a flush of magic colored his zygomatic bones a brilliant glowing yellow, horror and embarrassment warring for dominance. "Anyway, I should really be getting back. Try not to get too carried away with your _research._ " The title read, _Mating, a complete guide to the courtship of elementals and sprites._ Oh gods!!! Sans dropped the book like it was on fire, suddenly absolutely mortified. They were going to think that he was... wait... where did they go? If they mentioned that to Grillby the next time he stopped by the Elderbrew... He'd rather dust right now and get it over with! Book abandoned, he sprinted off to find them, vaguely aware that this was the most exercise he'd gotten since the festival of night.

They were at the counter, oh thank the stars, he could still save face. Still blushing horribly, he quickly tried to apologize, feeling childish and ashamed. "I'm so sorry. I hadn't read the title yet and I'd only grabbed it because I thought the code on the bottom matched the book I was looking for and-" They rose a hand, ignoring the librarian as she checked out their book on the monster human war. Amusement still colored their voice when they spoke up, a soft smile twitching across their face. But... they weren't being mean... they almost seemed apologetic. "It's fine. Happens all the time, most of the materials relating to magic kin are all lumped together in the same area. I'm just glad I saved you the embarrassment. Something tells me, you'd be regretting it if you got half way through the first few pages before you realized what you were reading."

Shifting from foot to foot, Sans could only nod quietly, unsure what else he could say. Then, Animus was accepting their book and receipt. The librarian, a grandmotherly older lady with greying hair and a kind face waved goodbye, speaking up softly in parting. "Take care miss Guardian." Wait... Guardian? Was that seriously their last name? Hadn't they just said it didn't work that way? Something in their posture shifted ever so slightly. If he hadn't been watching Animus so closely, he wouldn't have even noticed it. But since he was, Sans couldn't have missed the full body twitch that passed through them... as if, they'd only _just_ avoided flinching.

What was that about? Had she misgendered them? It was possible, but they didn't try to correct her either. Then the old librarian was speaking to him, diverting his attention from them long enough that he didn't notice when they recovered and slipped outside again. "Good evening young man, how can I help you tonight?" Being addressed directly had made him flinch, feeling a bit cornered now that her full attention was on him. Damn it... he'd have to come up with an excuse and if it wasn't good enough, this could turn ugly really fast. He liked this library, he didn't want to be tossed out and banned because someone thought he was stalking another patron. Well... technically he was, but it wasn't like he meant any harm... yet... Okay, even with proper context it was still kind of fucked up.

Nervous and jittery, he blurted out the first subject he could think of, regretting that he'd followed Animus to the front desk after all. "Uh.. I'm looking for Soul Studies? It's a book about magic and how its effected by the soul." It took him a few seconds too long to notice that they were alone in the library now. Great, he'd lost them. Well... at least he was in the perfect place to waste a bit of time and calm his nerves. It wasn't like he'd get anything more out of Animus anyway. If he followed them, it would just end with another long night of nothing, watching them go through their nightly ritual in getting ready for bed.

Shit... he really did sound like a stalker...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Explaining the importance of names here.  
> Since they weren't native to the timeline, though it was able to flex enough to incorporate elements of their old life into it, it wasn't able to get everything right.  
> Specifics like their name, face and physical characteristics were undefined, caught in a state similar to Schrodinger's cat.  
> They both existed and didn't exist in every state imaginable until a concrete decision was made.  
> Explaining how this effects the timeline itself would be easier than going into the nitty gritty details of it so I'll just do that instead.  
> To put it simply, they were possibility itself when they first arrived and as they interacted with more people, they settled into a specific identity.  
> When they referred to themself as Animus for the first time and expressed favor towards the last name **_Guardian_** , it **_became_** their name.  
> If Sans were to go back and look for information on them now, the corrupted sections of important documents stored in digital databases would have corrected themselves to match. The damage to the hard copies wouldn't be reversed but there would be ripples, obvious changes.  
> People who interacted with them on a regular basis that **_should_** have known their name, would now refer to them by the one they'd picked.  
> Unknowingly, Animus created an identity for themself, influencing the way the world saw them and altering the timeline, if only slightly.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Elderbrew closes down unexpectedly.  
> Sans can't find Animus anywhere and things get really strange when he tries finding out why.  
> Spoilers? Eh... maybe if you're really clever and read between the lines?  
> Also, Alphys!!!!!!! :3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Undertale owned by Toby Fox

The Elderbrew was closed the next day. And the day after that, and the day after that. Sans _had_ tried going back to the house in the woods to check on Animus. But for some reason, his shortcuts weren't working. Every time he tried teleporting back to the large gated property, his magic stuttered painfully and left him stranded somewhere in the middle of the woods. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't find it, not even on foot. When he tried taking the long route, walking rather than porting in, he just ended up going in circles.

There was a horrible feeling of deja'vu, a sickening disorientation that plagued the forest around where he _thought_ the building was supposed to be. It was like vertigo, twisting the senses and leaving him feeling sick when ever he tried to take in his surroundings. It was magic, he was certain of it, he just couldn't make any sense of it. And the effects of what ever they were doing made it impossible for him to study the phenomena properly. There was no way he was going to be able to figure out exactly what they'd done or how to bypass it if he felt like emptying his soul into the nearest pile of leaves every time he got near it.

It made his magic curdle, sent pins and needles roaring through the core of his being, left him wobbly and lightheaded. If that wasn't bad enough, his very soul was screaming at him to find it. Sans didn't know why, but every atom of his being demanded for him to keep trying. There was something pulling him towards that building, a maddening fixation that consumed his every thought. For three days he hardly slept or ate, stumbling back into the forest every chance he got. Papyrus was worried, of course he was, but he just couldn't stay away!

It wasn't until the third day that he noticed he wasn't the only one effected. His brother was more active than usual, his compulsive cleaning had even gotten bad enough that he'd marched into his room while he was taking a nap and cleaned everything he could get his hands on.... despite the fact that it was a longstanding argument that Sans was supposed to maintain his own space. If that wasn't proof enough that something was _very_ wrong and effecting _both_ of them, he didn't know what was.

If nothing else, Papyrus didn't seem to know anything about the strange phenomena in the woods. The last thing he wanted was for his little brother to be wandering around in the middle of a... well, he didn't know what it was. But Sans didn't know how it could be effecting him or anyone else who passed through it either. Having his little brother wandering into it repeatedly wasn't an attractive thought, not at all. Fortunately, Papyrus had a job as part of a cleaning crew in town. So, if he was really worried about his brother's safety and well being, he could always just call and ask one of the team to keep an eye on him.

Besides, the unexpected sorting of all his possessions _did_ give him a much needed distraction. While Papyrus was going through the laundry, he'd found the sample Sans had taken from Animus' basement... which he still hadn't gotten to Alphys yet. With a solid goal in mind and after apologizing to his brother for loosing track of his _projects_ , he set out to find the skittish scientist. Alphys was doing better with Undyne as a part of her life now and she'd even secured a position as a professor at the local university. But years of anxiety, crippling guilt and self doubt wouldn't just go away... even if the former captain of the royal guard made a habit of consistently dragging her girlfriend out of her comfort zone.

The incident with the amalgamates had definitely left its mark, though she was getting better about it... even if it still felt like she lived at her job. Alphys pretty much never left the university unless Undyne was involved and spent most of her time in the science lab, either monitoring student projects, teaching, or pursuing more innocent workings of her own. That was one thing Sans found a bit interesting about the university where she worked. The dean actually liked the idea of Alphys pursuing her own interests during her spare time, on the condition that if she came upon some new breakthrough in her research, he got first dibs on the results.

It was a little self serving, but considering the fact that she was working mostly on anime inspired body modifications and the like, it was relatively harmless. The only piece of work that he was mildly irritated at the dean for eyeing up, was her work on cybernetic prosthetics for amputees. If she got it working properly, she could make a living off of something like that, even if she planned on making it affordable for the average person, which he was sure she did. If the dean got a hold of that research and pursued a patent, Alphys lost rights to any of the earnings and wouldn't be allowed to sell the prosthetics herself.

To add insult to injury, Sans wouldn't be surprised if the guy decided to make it some kind of multi million dollar cash cow. There would be no way that any of the people who needed it most could get their hands on that tech. It was a real shit situation and he had a bad feeling that it was only going to get shittier. But... it wasn't like he could make an argument against the dean. Alphys was a full grown adult that could make her own decisions and she'd signed the paperwork, he didn't have a leg to stand on. With the way things stood currently, there wasn't anything he could do about it. Not even Asgore had _that_ kind of influence.

So, swallowing his pride and every venomous emotion he had towards the dean, Sans quietly navigated the halls of the university on his way to the science lab. It wasn't a very pleasant place to be, white washed walls and a tile floor that lacked anything even resembling imagination. The core had been more interesting, even if the old man hadn't built it with aesthetics in mind. His soul did an odd stutter-jump at the thought of Gaster, pulsing with some bitter emotion that made him want to leave... go somewhere... anywhere... For a moment, he thought of the forest again and brutally shoved that thought as far into the back of his mind as he possibly could.

Now wasn't the time to go on another wild goose chase. He had a lead and he was going to follow it damnit! Relief washed over Sans the moment he found Alphys in the science lab, clattering away on a keyboard with a seaming mug of coffee just within reach. Thank the stars. He didn't know what he might have done if she wasn't there... probably run off into the forest again like some mindless zombie. With a deep sigh, he paced over to the skittish lizard monster, making sure to tap his slippers against the floor so she knew he was there.

Her typing halted and his smile twitched the slightest bit wider as he slipped his hands into his hoodie pockets, grateful that she didn't seem all that busy after all. "Hey'a Alph, got a minute?" He wasn't quite expecting her to spin around in her chair and fix an pointed glare in his direction, something critical and judgemental in her eyes. Wow... who spit in her drink? Then she was speaking up, something like a pout curling across her face as her brow wrinkled. "Alright, what's wrong? You didn't make a single pun just now." It was like his mind short circuited. Alphys had been through a lot of changes recently, yeah and okay, she was sorta' protective of him and Paps but she'd never actually called him out on anything like that before.

Something in her expression softened, going from strict to worried, concerned, she slid a wheely chair towards him. There wasn't as much steel in her voice the next time she spoke, if anything she'd gotten really quiet, barely muttering above a whisper. "That bad, huh?" He could only sigh softly, collapsing into the chair she'd offered with a put upon groan. There really was no point in trying to come up with some kind of excuse, was there? Alphys _was_ the kind of person to just nod and let you walk away when you said you didn't want to talk about it. But.... at the same time she wasn't the kind of person to just let an argument die either.

She'd worry, she'd prod at him and try to get him to open up in all of the most difficult to ignore ways. It was just what she did, she cared and she made sure it was obvious, made sure she showed it every chance she got. The scare she'd had when Frisk first showed up... nearly loosing Undyne because she was too afraid to tell her how she felt.... Alphys had realized just how much trouble silence brought with it, just how damaging it could be to the people around her... to the people she cared about.

And in the time since then, she'd done everything she could to fight back against her poor habits and skittish nature... Even if Undyne had been the one to start that process and was often the one who reinforced her emotional growth and confidence, encouraging her girlfriend in ways that were unique to them specifically. Sans had never really asked how the _former_ captain of the guard got Alphys to step outside of her comfort zone, but considering the fact that they were a _couple_ now.... That wasn't information he strictly _needed_ to know.

All that mattered was that the skittish lizard monster had changed for the better... and that it would cause more problems in the long run if he tried walking away now. So, he did the only thing he could think to, crossing his arms over the back of the chair he'd been given and resting his jaw atop them. Where to begin... that was the question. After several moments of deliberation, he finally worked up the nerve to speak, something bitter and painful twitching in his soul. "Do you..." Damnit.... why was this so hard to talk about... it had been years.

With a heavy sigh, he closed his orbits and focused on his voice, ignoring the fact that it felt far too loud in the quiet room around them. If that wasn't bad enough, he could also still detect the undercurrents of hurt that he was trying so hard to keep from bleeding into his words. "Remember the anomaly I told you about a few years back?" Alphys visibly blanched, curling in on herself slightly and playing with the sleeves of her lab coat. After a short while, she nodded softly, stuttering quietly in response. "N-not... not as well a-as... n-not as well as I-I'd like. I remember... I-I remember... y-you said there was a... t-there was a-an a-accident. Your... y-your father... h-he... he didn't... he didn't make it."

Sans nodded quietly, huffing out a tense breath and trying to push away the twisted up feelings in his soul while the damn thing only seemed interested in telling him to ditch this conversation as fast as possible. His magic was coiling restlessly inside of him, it felt like he needed to run, do something, anything. Escaping this entire situation seemed really _fucking_ attractive right about now. But... he was there for a reason and as much as he'd like to avoid this subject in particular, it was important. So, he carefully slid a hand into his pocket and pulled out the sample he'd taken from Animus' basement, glaring at the tiny glass phial.

In part, he was glad that his voice had taken on a more thoughtful tone to it as he stared at the black grit in the bottom of the tube. Though... it wasn't enough to banish the horrible feeling in his chest. "Turns out... I might have found a lead." Alphys groaned at the pun and he grinned a little bit wider, carefully holding out the sample for his friend to take. She sounded personally offended as she took hold of the phial, staring at the dark substance inside of it while she grumbled good naturedly to him. The stuttering was gone again, ah, the miracle of a bad joke. "Why am I even surprised, of course you'd find a way to fit a joke into a serious conversation.... Hmm... I can see why you decided to go with metals for your theme though..."

She jumped out of her chair and scuttled over to a table with a microscope. The restless feeling in his chest made Sans follow her, lingering at a polite distance while she prepared a slide with the material. Alphys was in science mode now, muttering quietly to herself, thoughtful and focused. "I know I've seen something like this before." Then, she was glaring into the microscope, adjusting the magnification, moving the slide around while she examined it. "The sample crystals appear oddly uniform, primarily consisting of rhomic dodechahedra... wait..."

In a flash, she was back over at her desk, digging through drawers, looking for something. After several seconds of searching, she snatched up something from one of the bottom drawers with a brief cry of victory. "Found it!" Then, she was scuttling back over to the table with what appeared to be a magnet in her claws. With a smile, she pulled the slide out and set it on the table, moving the magnet towards it. The result was almost immediate. The sample moved towards the magnet, sticking to it in a gritty mess that oddly didn't get any of the black stuff on the table. Grinning, Alphys scraped it back into the phial, which turned out a lot harder than he would have thought.

After she'd done the best she could, she lidded the sample again and pressed the magnet against the side of the glass, showing Sans how it followed where she moved it. Then came the really interesting part. Satisfied that she'd shown him well enough that it was magnetic, no surprise there, she set down her magnet and grabbed an ordinary every day piece of metal. He wasn't expecting the black grit to chase the metal around when she moved it near the phial. Finally, with a beaming smile, she looked up at Sans and announced with clear excitement in her voice. "It's magnetite!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The pun Sans went with was lead as in the metal, again, an irritating pun that's not easily caught in written conversation.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to Animus' point of view again.  
> A flash back to the day Sans got accosted by drunks.  
> You guys get to see what happened at The Elderbrew from their perspective!  
> And oh boy is it more detailed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Undertale owned by Toby Fox

Why? Why were Sans and _Grillby_ of all people in _their_ tavern!?!? Memories of all the timelines and universes they'd observed were crashing over them in a jumble, flickering from one timeline to another in a tangled mess. When they first realized who had walked into the Elderbrew, they'd wanted to retreat back to the kitchen immediately. Panic and utter mortification were the two biggest things they'd felt at that moment. It was a miracle no one had noticed, it felt like their face was on fire. So, they'd simply done what they could to suppress the emotion, focusing on their task, falling back on the searing _pain_ in the center of their chest.

When ever they got too emotional, the damage to their soul flared up and the resulting pain made it easier to numb things like fear or in this case, mortification. It was a distraction and a pretty good one too, it was just fortunate they'd had nearly a decade to get used to it. Maintaining their persona on the other hand, was more difficult than they wanted to admit. They just hoped no one noticed the stiff set of their jaw as they poured the drinks for their latest patrons, forcing out a measured breath before adopting their usual smile.

The rest of their visit seemed to go on well enough... at least... outwardly. There was an unspoken tension in the air, something had Grillby on edge, that wasn't good. So, they'd intended to give the two magic kin a bit of space while they went over the menu in their own time. They were not expecting to be called back almost immediately after they'd started making their rounds. The sudden questions about their drinks menu was a little surprising, though not unwarranted. It was a common occurrence for new customers, most were curious of the unusual beverages they served. Not really all that strange, considering they brewed their own.

The casual inquiries helped them ease back into the _character_ of kindhearted barkeep with little difficulties, brushing away the last vestiges of their unease. It wouldn't do to alarm Sans or Grillby, no, best to treat this like any other day. Which was what led them to the moment when they slipped back into the kitchen, their smile immediately dropping as a sense of pure horror flooded over them. Was there something wrong with their singing? Had the song been something offensive or targeting? They didn't think so, it was just a stupid drinking song! What had they done wrong?!?!?

Both of them had seemed so uncomfortable! Were they embarrassed? No, if they were just embarrassed then they certainly would have sensed as much. Had they given something away? Had Sans and Grillby noticed that it was just a ruse, an act? Could the two of them sense as much, could they differentiate? Think damnit, think! They had to find some way of salvaging the situation! Deep breaths, Sans wouldn't act immediately. If they'd fucked up badly enough to trigger a violent reaction, they wouldn't have to worry about it until after dark, once all of the other patrons left. A spike of pain from their soul had them gritting their teeth, crossing over to the hearth to stir the heavy pot bubbling away over hot coals.

One problem at a time, no one had made any special orders yet, but they would have to set aside the stew to keep the vegetables from dissolving into the broth. A few more casual chores around the kitchen and stoking up the fire again after the stew was a safe distance away had them calm and collected again. Busying themself with simple menial tasks had always made it easier to rebalance. Once they were confident in their ability to act like a perfectly functioning adult again, they swept out of the kitchen.

Some of the lingering tightness in their chest eased ever so slightly when they realized that the two magic-kin were still there. So they hadn't scared them off, good. Though... the way Grillby was staring certainly wasn't helping. With the veil over their eyes, they couldn't exactly _see_ him in the physical sense, but they could certainly feel his stare boring into them. It was hard to tell for certain what he was looking for, perhaps trying to inspect their stats or hoping he could get a glimpse of their true nature? Good luck with that.

Maybe it was just the crest on their uniform? It was a possibility. There were plenty of versions of Grillby that either served in the royal guard or lived through the war in one way or the other. The delta rune held a great deal of meaning for most versions of him, the similarities between the two sigils were probably a little unsettling... Maybe he found it offensive? Questions for later. For the time being they simply swept back into their usual thursday, making their rounds while they subtly observed the two magic kin. Couldn't be obvious about it, no, had to make it look like nothing was amiss.

It helped ease a bit more of their tension once Sans and Grillby actually started eating. They'd missed the initial taste test, something that irritated them to no end, but they could certainly sense that the two were enjoying themselves. That made their afternoon a bit easier, if the two of them were actually enjoying their meal, it meant they wouldn't have to monitor them quite as closely. A few more hours ticked by, their regulars requested songs two or three more times and they reluctantly continued as they would have normally. It wasn't till they were half way through Siúil a Rún that they realized their two newest patrons were finally starting to relax.

There was a feeling in the air like wistful nostalgia, lingering about the elemental in a bittersweet manner that made them feel... something... They weren't entirely certain what it was, sinking and bitter, mournful if anything. But it was better than what ever it was they were sensing from him before and as long as they could actually _pay_ for the food and drinks, they weren't going to object to the two magic kin lingering about asking for refills. Sans seemed to enjoy the bloody mary, if the fact that he was on his eighth glass was anything to go by... Though, to be fair they had cheated a little bit.

His tastes were more or less consistent across classic timelines so guessing what he'd like in his drink was pretty easy. The same went for Grillby, though he was a little more difficult to peg. Suggesting the dragon's blood had been impulsive and maybe just the tiniest bit racist. But he'd asked for something strong and dragon's blood was one of the strongest drinks they had... except maybe the love potion but that one tasted fruity with an aftertaste like bubblegum. If he wanted a party drink he would have asked for a party drink, not hard liquor. The dragon's blood had a muskier flavor that wasn't sweet so much as spicy. The actual flavor of the hot peppers was masked by the other elements of the drink, leaving only the burn afterwards that complimented the tequila.

It had taken them a long time to get the formula right, months worth of sick days and irritation when ever it turned out wrong. Brewing their own drinks wasn't exactly easy on them, the smallest bit of alcohol could leave them horribly ill for days if it was strong enough. Their magic and soul reacted to it like it was a poison, never mind how their body treated it. Aside from the general discomfort it brought about, it also worked their magic into a frenzy, to the point where it caused them actual physical harm. It was never all that serious, just a severe energy fever and phantom burns under their skin that would linger for a few days while they healed.

The burns were easy enough to deal with, it wasn't like they were visible or exposed to open air. But they did leave the area prickling and painful, making their skin sensitive enough that the slightest touch stung horribly. After the first few times they'd attempted to work through it, they'd learned that it was too much trouble to maintain the appearance of a perfectly healthy, emotionally balanced individual while they were injured in such a way. The burns made them impatient and irritable, two things that didn't mesh with their carefully cultivated persona as the owner of the Elderbrew.

It was just fortunate that they'd had an excuse to take out their frustrations on a group of lowlifes that decided on trying to force themselves on a young woman under _their_ roof! It still made them feel borderline murderous just thinking of it. After finding a moment of quiet, they slipped into the kitchen and out the back door, holding out a hand to check the angle of the sun. It was getting late, that wasn't a concern for most of their patrons, they knew better than to leave unaccompanied if they were either female or had more than a few drinks. But.... Grillby and Sans...

They didn't know enough about the elementals in this world. Were they immune to physical attacks or would he get hurt if someone decided to pick a fight while they were making their way out? Was it worth the risk? No... No, absolutely not. If one of them got hurt Frisk might reset and they didn't have a solid connection to this reality yet. There was no guarantee they would still exist if that happened. It was possible that they could be sent back home, but in all likelihood, they would be erased, scattered into ambient magic and discarded energy or lost in the void as the timeline struggled to find a place for them. They didn't belong... at least... not yet. But they were going to find a way to tether themself to this world, anchor the timeline in a manner that prevented them from being erased.

After everything they'd already endured, they would not be undone by bad luck and the misguided compassion of a foolish child! That thought gave them pause. Why? Why were they... angry at themself for thinking of Frisk as foolish? Didn't matter, the safety and well being of the magic kin in their bar was a priority. They would deal with this issue as quickly and efficiently as possible. With a deep breath, they quickly readjusted their head dress and swept back inside. Yes, they would ensure their safety, regardless of interference. It only made sense for them to be concerned. If anything happened to Sans or Grillby, it would directly influence their own survival. It wasn't like they actually cared about them, they'd lost the ability to feel _compassion_ long ago.

A sudden wash of hostile intent swept over them the moment they stepped back out into the dining hall. Three humans, all radiating disgust and amusement, one of them was threatening Sans. Grillby wasn't taking action, he wanted to, they could feel it, but he was too worried about hurting the fragile skeleton in the process. They didn't know for certain when they moved, but they could _feel_ the bones in the human's wrist creaking in their grip. There was a cry of pain, they heard Sans hit the ground, felt when the elemental hurried to his side. Everything inside of them burned with _rage._

The human was male, reeking of alcohol and stars knew what else. He'd threatened one of their patrons, in _their_ tavern. This was an affront, an insult, they wouldn't _stand_ for it. One open palmed strike to the center of his chest sent him flying into his two companions, one of which had the presence of mind to at least try catching him. Then they were stalking towards them, refusing to give them a chance to recover. Distantly, they were aware of the air around them growing hotter, heavier with intent. It was probably visible, probably obvious now, they didn't care. They stopped five feet away from them, hissing and venomous, their voice dropped into a rasping growl that had the three scrambling over themselves to get away before anything else happened. **"The Elderbrew does not tolerate racism. Get out!"**

Any other day they might have found watching the humans scrambling out the door and stumbling over one another in a frantic rush down the cobbled pathway, cathartic. Not this time. Slamming the door closed after they'd watched the wretched creatures slipping away into the ally was probably a little uncalled for, but they were still furious. Taking a few moments to gather themself, they straightened their head covering again, breathed deeply and forced themself to calm down. The feeling in the air lightened, the heat they were giving off faded out and they turned back around to survey the tavern.

Most everyone was staring at them, they couldn't blame their patrons, most of them had never seen them well and truly angry. A quick check on Sans had them feeling a little less like killing someone, though they sensed how uneasy he was when they paced over to stand a short distance away from the two magic kin. Something akin to respect was radiating from the elemental, gratitude and something they couldn't quite peg. It didn't matter, Sans wasn't a pile of dust all over their tavern floor, that was what mattered.

By some miracle they managed to keep their voice even, soft and gentle when they addressed the skeleton. "Are you hurt? I might have something for pain-" They weren't expecting to be interrupted, or the way the energy radiating off of Sans changed from unease to gratitude, relief, hope. Something about that emotion in particular made their soul twinge painfully in their chest... _hope._.. "Eh, s'fine, no skin off my back." It took them all of three seconds to recognize the joke for what it was, so unexpected that it managed to startle a snort out of them. Then, they were trying to hold their voice steady as they addressed him, a little off balance now. He'd made a pun... he'd almost gotten himself dusted by a bunch of drunk ass teenagers and he was making puns. "Did you seriously just..."

He went off again, his grin broader than it was just a few seconds ago. Oh, he was enjoying this, he was definitely enjoying this. "I mean, tibia honest I was a bit rattled there for a sec, but you came in the head of the moment." They couldn't help it, it was just so stupid. It wasn't funny, it was ridiculous and horribly inappropriate. But, once upon a time, they would have found something like this funny. Once upon a time, they would have laughed. And so they did. They didn't feel it, their soul wasn't in it, but by now their mind was following behavioral patterns that had long lost their meaning. For a moment, they almost managed to convince themself that there was something there, that it was real amusement, real mirth. But... it wasn't.

They knew he was going to keep going like this all night if they gave him a chance, so when they sensed him preparing another string of puns, they turned around and clapped their hands to get everyone's attention... not that that was strictly necessary since everyone was still staring at them... great. "Alright folks, prohibition rules tonight. No one leaves alone and everyone passes through The Elder's Rest to get home." There was a chorus of groans from some of their more intoxicated patrons but they were quick to cut off any objections before the seeds of dissent could start to sprout. "I don't want to hear any grumbling. To those of you who parked on the other side of the road or left your vehicle in a parking garage, I'm sorry. But I'd rather you be grouchy tonight than have a bunch of rowdy drunken teenagers trying to start something with anyone here. Stars knows what they might try."

With that they were sweeping back towards the kitchens, feeling mildly unsettled despite their best efforts. A sudden grip on their shoulder from behind caused them to tense, quickly reigning in the urge to whirl around and punch Grillby in the face for touching them without warning like that. They were already on edge, being snuck up on wasn't the most advisable course of action at the moment, especially since they were too wound up to sense their surroundings properly. And based on the way the elemental let go almost immediately, he at least understood that he'd crossed some sort of unspoken line. A moment later he was huffing out a tense breath and speaking up a little hesitantly.

The energy coming off of him was uncomfortable and a bit... they didn't really know exactly but it put them on edge. "If I might ask... what is The Elder's Rest?" They perked slightly, their mind instantly latching onto their role as kindhearted bartender, making it easy to slip back into character. Their voice was a little off, coming off as unconcerned or uninterested in the topic. Oh well, it would have to do, with any luck he'd think that they were just distracted and concerned about the rowdy drunks they'd sent off. "Ah, yes. The Elder's Rest is an inn just across the way. Turned out, if I wanted to build The Elderbrew, I had to buy and pay for the entire city block." A slight smirk crept across their face as they recalled the memory, feeling some measure of grim satisfaction at their little victory over city hall.

Those stuck up entitled little pricks hadn't expected them to be well enough off to actually afford all of the added conditions they'd tried to force on them. Grillby seemed surprised by this and they simply hummed softly, turning back around towards the kitchens again. A bit of amusement crept into their voice while they paced behind the counter, catharsis finally settling in. "Why did you think you had to pass through so many twisting alleyways to get here?" They glanced back towards the elemental despite the fact that they couldn't really see him, slipping inside and closing the door behind them after one last comment. "It's for the dramatics."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That moment you use magic without realizing it. XD  
> The mesmer they added to their singing is something they do subconsciously, it's not something they can control or are even aware of most of the time.  
> They _**can**_ magnify the effect by focusing on it and adding in magic intentionally, but it's just sort of something they do, all the time.  
> If they were to bark an order at a dog or something, it would have a _**command**_ imbued into it regardless of whether or not they meant to do it. To most animals it would be instinctual to obey and based on the amount of magic put into it, most magic kin would feel compelled to follow their orders as well.  
> It would be like a flinch, something they'd do on impulse without realizing they were listening to Animus, at least as long as they weren't guarding against something like that, which most wouldn't be.  
> Animus also tends to do other things subconsciously, like adding magic to the meals they cook, though they can magnify the effect by focusing on it and they actually do when it comes to the things they cook at The Elderbrew.  
> Similarly, they project strong emotions or approximations of emotions that they want other people to feel while under their roof in order to make the tavern more welcoming.  
> This is why Sans was able to sense emotion from them despite the fact that he couldn't sense their soul specifically.  
> Animus was projecting emotion intentionally in order to fake it more convincingly.  
> They might not _**feel**_ the things they're projecting, but they _**do**_ remember what those emotions felt like so they can fall back on memory to make a convincing aura to fool others into thinking they're emotionally balanced.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Animus has several bad days in a row.  
> Someone fucks with their flower beds.  
> And Sans can't sleuth to save his life.  
> They also do something with the rest of the magnetite Sans discovered in their basement.... it's unpleasant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Undertale owned by Toby Fox

The rest of their afternoon went on without further incident. The Elderbrew remained peaceful and undisturbed, the lingering sense of unease in the air slowly dissipating over the course of the next twenty minutes or so. They checked back on Sans and Grillby a few times to make sure they were doing alright and gave them some time to recover from the unexpected hostilities. After they were certain the two magic kin had their wits about them, they requested payment for the evening and escorted them safely out.

It wasn't until Lilly, the girl who kept an eye on the rear entrance of the Elder's rest, was taking the two of them off their hands that they could finally relax. They hadn't realized just how tense they were until the moment they were letting the ivy swing back into place after she'd closed the door behind them. This could not be permitted to happen again, not under their roof. With that resolve, they reluctantly allowed themself to swing back into the rhythm of their thursday evening, tending to their patrons for the remainder of their business hours.

There were no further incidents and everyone managed to conduct themselves in a polite, albeit occasionally inebriated manner when it came time for them to be escorted out. When the last of their customers had departed through the back, they swiftly closed up for the night. With all of the doors locked, barred and with the windows sealed, they departed from their small sanctuary, leaving behind an extra layer of wards to protect their property. One last glance back towards the tavern once they reached the archway leading to their little maze of allies was enough to convince them to come back later and add further protections to keep those with ill intent from finding their way inside. But for now, the library demanded their complete and undivided attention.

Muscle memory guided them along the twists and turns leading to where they kept their motorcycle during business hours as they allowed their mind to wander. So far they'd only been able to visit the library once before and their efforts to find more concrete information about the timeline had been unsuccessful. Fortunately, they _had_ gotten word that the library _was_ expecting a shipment of books relating to monster history and biology. So long as the books were written by magic kin, it would serve their needs just fine. Unfortunately however, their study hour that night was just as informative as it was the night prior. If that wasn't enough to put them in a sour mood, what they found the next day certainly was.

The flowerbeds lining the pathway to their tavern had been completely decimated. Someone had taken scissors or knives or something sharp to every single one of their blooms, decapitating the flowers and leaving them scattered everywhere. Shock was their first response to the horrible state of their garden, fury swiftly snapping at its heels. A new set of wards was placed around The Elderbrew by the end of the day, ensuring that anyone with ill intent would wander aimlessly within the maze of alleyways, inevitably ending up right where they started no matter how hard they tried to find their way. Not even the wooden signs they'd placed to guide their patrons to the tavern would be enough to aid such deviants in the search for their garden.

Of course, salvaging said garden turned out to be a much more demanding and time consuming task. Even with the aid of their magic, it had taken them hours to return the flowerbeds to so much as a pale shadow of their former glory. It was just fortunate they'd started their day early, otherwise they never would have finished in time. As it stood, they were forced to leave scattered petals along the pathway after clearing away the worst of the debris. People would ask questions, they didn't want to deal with it. Fortunately, somehow, their patrons either realized how upset the discovery had left them, or they just weren't curious enough to ask about it. The day passed without any insensitive questions and they were able to close down with only a whisper of hostility chasing them down the pathway.

The sight of the scattered petals still upset them, but they could deal with it tomorrow or the day after. Besides, some would even consider the fallen petals charming, like cherry blossoms shedding into the breeze. The ride back to the library helped them clear their head and by the time they arrived, they were in full control of their emotions again. The last of their sour mood vanished into the ether when the librarian told them that the books they'd been waiting for had _finally_ arrived. It didn't take them long to find one that was promising.

True, they couldn't _see_ the title or _read_ the contents with their head covering on and they weren't willing to remove it just yet. But, they could sense the magic and emotion clinging to the book. It had been written by magic kin, drenched in emotion and intent, marked by a clear magic signature that they could trace. The back of the library was quiet and empty, perfect for what they had in mind. Of course, satisfaction quickly gave way to irritation once they sensed a familiar soul making its way towards them.

With no other options, they opened the book and flipped to a random page, lifting their veil for a moment to check the title before doing so. It was a record of the monster human war, that was fine, at least they weren't holding a romance novel erotica or something like that. Satisfied that they could continue with their honor and pride in tact, they repositioned their head covering and flipped to the next page, waiting for him to approach. They'd been expecting Sans to open with a pun and truth be told, he didn't disappoint, though he probably could have been more inventive.

Pretending that they were in an amiable mood was more difficult than they wanted it to be. They were tired and drained, the irritation from the start of their day quickly rearing its head again. The conversation was stilted at best, Sans was nervous and hiding it horribly. In addition to that fact, intent was bleeding off of him in droves, they could sense what he wanted and it only left them feeling more on edge. Lying disagreed with them horribly, despite the fact that they were a skilled enough actor to make anyone believe just about anything.

The thought of deceiving others left a sour taste in their mouth, meaning that the deck was stacked against them from the beginning. Sans was observant and had a keen intuition, he would pick up on anything and everything, even half truths and lies of omission which meant that the longer they lingered, the worse things would get. They managed to slip a half truth past him when he asked where the mark on their tabard came from, even if they could sense that he didn't buy it completely. It was _technically_ true that they didn't know _exactly_ where it came from, even if they _did_ know the _culture_ where it originated. They cringed inwardly when he asked what it meant and reluctantly surrendered to a single word answer.

Stars that was painful, it wasn't a lie but it was an answer without any type of context. If there was one thing they hated more than lying, it was misinterpretation or misrepresentation. They were failing to explain the true meaning of their crest but they couldn't give him anything more without betraying their people or endangering themself. If that wasn't bad enough, they'd let a bit of their bitterness bleed into their interactions with him and they could sense that he'd noticed... even without the way he abruptly changed subjects.

When he asked their name, it genuinely gave them pause. In the time since the festival of night, they'd been so busy that they hadn't thought of it so much as once. It was actually a little alarming now that they were focusing on it. No one had addressed them by name so much as once, it had always been generic greetings or passing remarks that didn't require one. And they simply hadn't noticed, it had felt natural, they hadn't even realized that they'd been missing it until that exact moment. The realization managed to startle a chuckle out of them and they teased him at first to buy themself more time.

There was no point in using their given name. It was a _human_ name and if they were going to live in _this_ timeline in _this_ world, they wanted a name that suited them. After a few seconds of quiet deliberation, they finally came upon something that felt right. Ancient, meaningful, with just the right amount of obscurity. Animus, soul, emotion, memory, the memory of a soul, it was perfect. Sans' reaction was absolutely delicious. Confusion, irritation, indignance and the way he rose to their challenge even made them feel some pale shadow of amusement. Then, they found the perfect way to end this little song and dance of theirs.

True, they'd been looking for a way out since he sat down next to them, but they hadn't expected him to make it so easy. The emotion and intent attached to the book he was holding was impossible to mistake for anything else and a more deliberate inspection confirmed their suspicions, though they could have gone without the flashes of _less_ than _modest_ imagery that fluttered through their mind's eye. If embarrassing Sans was always this entertaining, they could understand why Flowey targeted him so extensively in the timelines and universes they'd observed.

Of course, that still didn't excuse the soulless prince's behavior. But filing that information away would make it less difficult to avoid killing him when they inevitably ran into the pitiless creature later on. Their new name was also a rather... satisfying result of their interactions with the young skeleton. The night was shaping up to be half decent after all, they would have even called it pleasant... at least... until the librarian spoke up in parting. "Take care Miss Guardian."

It felt like their soul nearly lept out of their chest, a sudden violent pulse of horror flooding through them. The fact that she'd misgendered them didn't even register at all. They'd been to the library a handful of times after entering the timeline and they'd come to _this_ library in _particular_ in their _old_ world on and off for several years. The librarian _had_ known their _given_ name back in their _previous_ timeline but she'd never referred to them by name in _this_ timeline in _this_ world. If that wasn't enough, they'd only _just_ chosen that name. How did she know! It didn't make sense, she _shouldn't_ have known. They felt cold, panic clouding their mind in a haze of roaring static.

Animus didn't remember leaving the library, they didn't remember jumping on their motorcycle or driving home. What they did remember was slamming the door behind them and crumpling to the floor in front of it, trembling and terrified. The timeline was obviously still in flux, they had to hurry, they were running out of time. If something like _that_ could change, there was no telling what else could change. It took them far too long to calm down, the manic throbbing pain in their soul only serving to work them into an even more inconsolable state. They didn't know how long they were sitting there, hugging their legs into their chest, face buried against their knees, breathing erratic, eyes watering from fear and pain. But eventually, they did manage to calm down. They did manage to steady their breathing and slowly, cold logic settled over them.

A steady pulse of pain still lingered in their soul, there was a new stinging ache, sharp and fresh. It helped them isolate themself, disassociate from the fear they'd been drowning in just a few minutes prior. The new pain was cause for concern, but it was a minor issue that could be dealt with later. They could double up on their usual dose of _medicine_ , provide their soul with added support until the new crack settled in like all of the others. The added strain would be no more than a minor inconvenience, they could even take more supplements if they needed to... which they likely would. There was still time to salvage the situation, but they would have to give the timeline their complete and undivided attention.

Dusting themself off, Animus took their book and settled on the couch facing the sun room windows, staring out into the night impassively as they took out their phone. It hadn't worked the last time they'd used it, but that was likely because the number they'd tried calling no longer existed. So instead of trying to contact anyone from the outside, they focused on someone they _knew_ was part of the timeline they were in. Lily answered after the third ring and after a few brief pleasantries, they managed to convince her to put up a sign on the front door of the tavern stating that it would be closed until further notice. This wasn't all that out of the ordinary and considering the state of the gardens it was even to be expected.

No one had ever had the nerve to defile their sanctuary before, the lack of inquiries as to their motivations for closing down was only to be expected. Lily was likely to assume that they were still upset and required some time off to clear their head, such predictable sentimentality. However, in this case, it did work to their advantage. They snapped their phone shut after finishing their conversation and set it aside, quickly taking out the book they'd borrowed from the library. The magic signature was still fresh, this, they could use. And without preamble, they dove into their work, tracing the timeline they were currently in with a certain cold, calculating precision that should have been unnerving.

It took them longer than they'd expected, this was a timeline they were unfamiliar with, though it held certain similarities to the ones they were most attached to. It was hard _not_ to get distracted while they were _learning_ about the world they'd arrived in. Forging a connection to a new timeline was an... intense, experience. It wasn't like they were just reading a book like any other casual observer. When they observed a timeline, they became a part of it, even if they were never able to change a single thing that happened. It was a profoundly spiritual endeavor, a journey of a thousand miles that could take place in a matter of hours if need be.

While scrying a timeline, merging themself with worlds beyond their reach, they shared in the characters' victories and defeats. Suffered alongside them, laughed and mourned, grieved the loss of loved ones just as they did. Every sorrow, every ounce of pain, both physical and emotional, they felt just as keenly as those who lived in the world they were watching. They saw things from the perspective of the characters, knew their inner thoughts and were privy to information that no one else could gather... at least, from the inside. It was the closest they could get to truly _living_ , even if only for a moment.

For all of the pain it brought them, every timeline had its bright spots, moments of joy and innocence that soothed their scarred soul. This timeline was no different. There were strange places where time seemed to fold in on itself, places where they couldn't observe things clearly. But they didn't need the full story, they only needed to trace their exact location and trace it they did. Confident that they knew enough about the world the were in, Animus set aside their book and started towards the wine cellar, wiping away a few stray tears as they went.

Images of bloodshed and violence shadowed them as they stalked to the back of the cellar, lifting the barrel of black sand from the floor and pacing towards a basin of everclear they'd prepared the night before. Leaving magic lying around was too great a risk, they couldn't prepare the mixture ahead of time and leave it to ferment if they were going to leave the house unattended at any point during the process. The chances of Sans stumbling upon it were too great and explaining it to him was out of the question. _Oh, that, yeah, I was just making fake magic with which to deceive the eye and confound the senses._ _What was I planning on doing with it? Nothing out of the ordinary I assure you!_

Like hell he'd let them get away with something like that. They would have had to close down for a few days to prepare this anyway, even _if_ their body responded to the implants and bonding process favorably. This was likely to leave them _very_ sick for a few days at the least if they were _lucky_. Bitter and spiteful, they tipped the magnetite into the vat of alcohol, stirring it with their magic and starting the process of enchanting it. They could have been standing there for hours for all they knew, pulling soul supplements out of their inventory to munch on while they worked. Their overall mana pool was a lot less than it should have been, further strained by the new damage to their soul, it was just fortunate they'd prepared with that in mind.

Without the supplements, it could have taken them days to finish their work. They would have been forced to stop, to rest and recover their strength, stuttering the process. It would have been difficult to hide what they were doing. With the aid of their _medicine_ , they finished after only eight hours of continuous work. True, they were exhausted and _not_ looking forward to what came next. But, there was no better time to apply the implants than _just_ before going to bed. So, they removed the mixture from the everclear, using a conjured flame to flash dry their new _toy_. Next came the _unpleasant_ part.

Animus carefully stored _most_ of the black sand in their inventory, keeping only a measuring cup worth of it with them as they stalked back upstairs, shielding it from impurities with their magic. With a mild sense of foreboding, they stripped down into their nightclothes and settled in bed, steadying their breathing. They'd selected a sleeveless top and a pair of shorts, leaving as much skin exposed as they could. This would be painful, this would be unpleasant, it was necessary. Animus stared blankly at the ceiling and with a brutal pull of their magic, forced the black sand under the bare skin of their arms.

It _burned_ , the rush of pain suppressing magic did little to temper the pain as they maneuvered the foreign substance into position, disguising the implants as runic tattoos. It wasn't much, they'd spread it out, it was only a measuring cup worth of it. But the crystals still hurt, especially where the implants ran over their shoulders and sank into their back. The muscles near their shoulder blades had always been sensitive, the damage to the skin was causing inflammation and their current position was pressing the false tattoos into the extra set they kept shielded. Animus couldn't help it, they'd been forced to roll over, gasping and hissing in pain at the shift in their position.

It helped ease some of the pain in their back but their arms weren't thanking them. With a grunt of irritation, they sat up, hunching in on themself in an effort to relieve some of the itching and burning under their skin. This was fine, they didn't need to sleep, they could just... stay up till it settled. It felt like hours before the maddening sensation finally calmed down, until their magic finally managed to silence their discomfort. Oh, they'd definitely feel it while they were sleeping, they'd be tossing and turning all the while and they'd be waking up in pain. But, such was the price of progress. With a bit of rest, they could begin phase two of their plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why did they just stick a bunch of shit under their skin you ask?  
> Because they only have a limited supply of magic and their soul can't put up with anything too fancy for too long.  
> Their magic is most potent while it's still inside of their body and by having some of the magnetite inside of them, they can spread out their magic more effectively and manipulate the loose particles without putting a whole lot of strain on their soul.  
> This works through a sort of symbiotic wavelength established during the enchanting phase of turning it into a usable tool.  
> It's all part of one whole and interacts with itself accordingly, the black sand under their skin has constant access to their magic and can share that magic with the rest, preventing any one part from loosing its magical properties.  
> Since it's bonded to their magic in such a way, it acts almost like another limb, if limbs could be fluid, particalized, separate pieces from the main body.  
> This process however is incredibly demanding on the host during the bonding process, both magically and physically.  
> Not only did they have to surrender an incredible amount of magic and soul energy to enchant the magnetite and prepare it for its intended purpose, but they also have to deal with the trouble caused by the implantation process.  
> As with any foreign substance that's just shoved under someone's skin, there will be repercussions, though they have taken measures to prevent infection.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Animus continues having a miserable time and it doesn't get any better... like at all...  
> We get a little more insight into their mental and emotional state... some of us could have gone without that.... 0_0  
> Also cliff hangers!!!!  
> I ran out of time and got interrupted in the middle of a fight sequence, then forgot where I was.  
> So this is just what we're stuck with until I can find the time to pick it up again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Undertale owned by Toby Fox

Sleep was something Animus could only cling to for a handful of hours before waking in a cold sweat regardless of what they tried. After the third or fourth time they _failed_ to stay asleep for any longer than half an hour before waking, they finally just gave up. Their body was aching and cold, their magic flushing towards the implants in some instinctual effort to speed the healing process. Pain suppression was something they could focus on while they were awake but without conscious effort, they couldn't just ignore the feeling of something being stuck under their skin.

If that wasn't bad enough, they'd obviously developed a fever, likely caused by the stress or the sudden increase of activity in their soul and magic. Everything felt sharp and painful, phantom burns had already settled under their skin, leaving them restless and uncomfortable. As if to add insult to injury, the fact that they _still_ had a fever only made things worse. The chill that came with it made them want to seek out any source of warmth they could find, despite the fact that huddling under a pile of blankets only made everything hurt even worse. They should have been grateful for the fever, it made staying warm easier, even if they couldn't exactly _feel_ said warmth properly with their body temperature elevated as it was.

It was nearly mid day by the time they stumbled bitterly out of the house, seeking out the four corners of their property to set up the beginnings of a barrier that would keep unwanted visitors from finding their hiding place. Warding the house against outside eyes was more physically demanding than they wanted even without the added strain on their magic which was already running thin. It didn't help that they were the stingy type when it came to their enchanted items. They didn't like parting with anything they'd given purpose or meaning to, though the fact that they had to use up a little bit of their soul every time didn't help with that either. True, under ideal circumstances, they could regenerate the missing pieces in a matter of hours, but they hadn't lived under ideal circumstances in a long time.

It wasn't all that uncommon for them to need days or longer to recover from _anything_ that was more ambitious than enchanting a meal or using any of their other racial perks. The supplements helped of course, they could use the magic and soul energy they'd stored in the prepared _medicine_ to give themself a temporary boost and speed their recovery, but it only went so far. The weariness lingered, draining their willpower the longer they forced it. A weary soul was a hard thing, spreading themself thin was never a good idea. It only invited trouble, enticing the darkest shadows to stalk their every stride.

One of the small mercies to their current situation was that they hadn't seen or suffered the presence of a shadow for longer than a few hours at a time and never within their own walls. The house and the tavern were well protected and said protections even seemed to have grown in strength since their arrival. That was the _only_ thing that convinced them it was worth the effort of traipsing around the woods for several hours, digging holes in each of the four cardinal directions and burying one of their precious quartz crystals at points equidistant from one another. There was enough of their magic in each of the stones for them to interact with the crystals at a distance if they just stretched their senses far enough, though that itself was exhausting on top of everything else.

The fact that they planned on using a citrine cluster as a makeshift battery wasn't going to make it any easier. They would still need to connect the five crystals and activate the barrier, then imbue it with the desired properties. All told, the process took them several hours and left them feeling raw despite falling back on the supplements to supply them with the added magic and soul energy they needed. Sleep came more easily after that, though waking proved to be much more difficult than they'd anticipated. Animus drifted in and out of consciousness, their soul regaining awareness rather than their physical body awakening. Each time they experienced that _particular_ sort of disconnection, they were forced to wake themself however they _could_.

The first few times were the hardest, they were too tired to work up the will or magic to move. They'd been forced to manipulate their breathing, hyperventilating for several seconds before cutting off their air supply in the hopes that it would shock their physical body back into awareness. It worked after a few tries, though it didn't make the whole thing any less exhausting and the fever wasn't helping. Their body still hurt and the discomfort didn't make it easy to motivate themself into reestablishing their magic flow properly. Still, the thought of _testing_ whether or not they could actually fall down like one of the magic kin wasn't an attractive thought. Their academic curiosity wasn't _that_ important to them.

So they suffered through it, ignoring the temporary relief from the pain and the fever that came with their conscious mind separating from the more physical parts of their being. A brief moment of peace wasn't worth fizzling out with all the trouble they'd gone through to keep themself going. Hope wasn't something they'd felt in a long time, there wasn't any patience or bother left in their soul for it. They could sense it in others, people who had something to hold onto, something to add a bit of life to their otherwise meaningless existences. But if one were to look inside of Animus and try to find some reason that they _just_ kept on _fighting_ one day after the other... The only thing they'd find lighting up their busted up soul would be bitterness and spite, a smouldering hellfire that burned deadly silent, fierce and relentless.

Animus kept putting one foot stubbornly in front of the other with all of the venom and wounded pride of someone who'd already lost everything. Because they already had. There was nothing the world could take from them that they hadn't already lost at least once before. And if any stars damned fool thought they were going to try taking a pass at them, they'd make damn sure said _fool_ regretted the day he or she darkened their door. A creature with a physical body didn't need hope or compassion or love to keep them going. That was one of the reasons magic kin were so afraid of humans, wasn't it? Even without taking into account their powerful souls and horrifying intent, a human could keep going long after even the strongest boss monster succumbed to grief or hopelessness.

You didn't need hope to be determined, you just needed enough spite and steel and anger to light a fire beneath your feet. Anger was a stronger motivator than most people gave it credit for being and Animus had plenty to be angry about. Humans as a whole just didn't change. There were still good people no matter how they sliced it, but that didn't change the way things always turned out. Racism, violence, cruelty, genocide, it was like history was a broken record. Two hundred thousand years and the human race unanimously decides it's the best damn thing to happen to the world just because they managed to get the general gist of how not to be assholes all the time?

Well that was just damn perfect! Like it did anyone any good while they were still slaughtering each other for stupid reasons that didn't make any sense in the first place! They were just going to pat themselves on the backs for a job well done while they were still shitty, self serving and bloodthirsty? Mankind as a whole was probably the worst thing they'd ever been forced to live with. Yes, there were good people, yes, those people made the world a better place. But what good did it do anyone when all of the worst people were the ones in control? Two hundred thousand years! Countless lifetimes and it still felt like they were standing in the gallows with a noose around their neck, just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Was it any surprise they didn't have it in them to hope for anything anymore?

Perhaps that was why their memories had been sealed in the first place... if only they hadn't opened _that_ can of worms in a moment of youthful exuberance and naivety... True, they were grateful for the memories of their people, they were... not exactly _happy,_ per say, but... they couldn't imagine going back to a life of pure ignorance. Those memories hurt, at times more than words alone could say but without them, they wouldn't even know themself. Their magic would have remained sleeping, rearing up only in moments of great peril or during emotional outbursts where they'd have no control over what it did. Even if their soul hurt all of the time, they couldn't imagine a life where they weren't aware of it. And yet... so many others lived their lives without feeling the presence of their souls even once. It was... honestly terrifying.

Most of the time, Animus tried not to think about it. Of course, while they were healing and recovering their magic, there was little more that they could do but stew in their own mind. So, they chewed over bits of things they were normally too bitter and angry to think about. It wasn't exactly a _good_ distraction, though finding reasoning and logic behind it, or at least picking through patterns of behavior made it easier to understand. They'd never agree with most of the people they met. Hell, they'd never even talk to any of them if they got their way. But they _could_ predict them, pick apart their minds and find the best way to avoid conflict, run rings around them till they could find a good enough time to bolt...

Or... they could psycho analyze them right out in the open, rip apart their twisted perceptions of reality and stitch them back together all nice and neat, watch them come undone a little bit more with every word. Normally, Animus reserved that sort of retaliation for the worst sort of people. Though... there had been once or twice where someone had managed to rile them up just enough that they'd lost their temper. It had been a while since they'd used their barbed tongue and they weren't in the habit of spitting venom anymore... but it was a near thing. Words could do more harm than fists, even if there was some degree of satisfaction to watching drunken slobs stumbling over themselves to flee from an angry tavern keeper.

They spent a lot of time thinking, they thought until they were sick of it and then thought some more. Then, they started picking apart their plans and letting their mind's eye wander, scouting the route they'd take to the underground. There was no sense in getting caught half way through carrying things out. So, by the time they were well enough to be on their way, they already knew that the main entrance was their best bet. The security cameras shifted thirty degrees every two or three minutes and they were intimately familiar with all of the blind spots. Additionally, so long as Sans wasn't secretly watching the footage for no apparent reason at all, there wouldn't be anyone who could notice them just slipping past while their magic was at work.

There were more advantages to being easily overlooked than one typically considered. Still, they gave the monitoring system a wide berth, counting down the seconds and quickly dashing through a brief window between two cycles. They weren't foolish enough to enter the underground while dressed in casual attire, if they _did_ actually run into someone who _could_ notice them, looking like a human was bad. A monster returning to the underground was one thing, but a human wandering the halls was out of the question. There was a reason there were still cameras and security guards even this long after the barrier was broken. Some folks preferred the underground over the hustle and bustle of the city, it was quieter, more private.

Unfortunately however, that also meant that people from the surface couldn't just walk in all willy nilly. There were checks and necessary safety procedures, couldn't have a mass murderer just skipping down the halls waiting for an easy mark. It was just fortunate their armor made them look like some kind of demon, all sharp angles and pooling darkness. Their helm had horns and fed into a mask that hid their eyes and nose from view while their gauntlets made it look like they had some kind of vicious claws or something. Truth be told, the gauntlets were actually _made_ to function with that purpose in mind. The claws could be used, to great effect if necessary, though that didn't exactly give them brownie points for being the most cuddly of creatures you'd ever see.

Additionally, their greaves were intentionally made to disguise their legs and make them look like they had hooves instead of feet. The overall structure was hard to get used to but easy to move in and unless they had to run or do anything too physically demanding, it wasn't like they'd end up bruised. True, their ankles and the tendons in their feet would be sore for a while from being overextended, but that was _only_ if they _had_ to run or carry something heavy. The whole thing was made out of a mixture of hardened polymer in the case of their gauntlets and horns with black stained steel for the rest of it. They'd forgone their usual armaments for the night, resolving to carry the black sand with them instead. It would function as a necessary safety net in case they ran into trouble and they could use it without giving away the true nature of their magic.

Their cloak was also something they'd left in their inventory, instead wearing something resembling a short sleeved tailcoat over their armor which they left open in the front... Though... that was more a design choice than anything else. They'd made it themself for the sake of making their attire look more modern in case they actually got caught, so it wasn't like it had buttons or a zipper up the front. In addition to that fact, the sleeves were a little on the longer side, cutting off just at their elbows to leave freedom of movement seeing as their gauntlets cut off right about there anyway. The result was that all of their sharp edges were in full view, though they liked it that way, it made them look more intimidating. It was just a shame that the first monster they met in the underground didn't seem to share that sentiment.

Animus knew this would happen eventually, even if they'd managed to pass through the capital and made it all the way to hotland without being seen. There were at least five individuals in the entire underground that they would be forced to interact with by the time the night was over. And the colorless feline monster standing across from them on the narrow metal pathway was just one of them. He'd taken notice of them the moment they stepped off of the elevator, his manic grin widening as murderous intent sparked at the air. They were prepared for trouble even before his voice cut through the air, low and cruel, hissing with hostility. "Alphys might work faster. But the old Royal Scientist, Doctor W.D. Gaster?"

While he was talking, they let their gaze flick to his hands where the illusion of a head was bobbing up and down, its mouth moving in time with the creature's voice. Of course, they could easily see through it, right to the glowing shard in the monster's possession. "One day, he vanished without a trace. They say he shattered across time and space." Animus reached for their magic, every line of their figure tense with anticipation as they felt their implants hum with life. The creature's voice dipped lower, his claws tightening around the soul shard possessively. "Ha ha... how can I say so without fear? I'm holding a piece of him right here." They weren't expecting him to be so fast, so strong. He was just another magic kin, he should have been easy for them to overpower. But as they felt his claws ripping through their armor and tearing into the flesh underneath, they realized that they'd underestimated him, to devastating effect. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Animus gets their ass kicked.  
> There's a good example of the phrase, once bitten twice shy.  
> Gaster helps our transported character without really trying.  
> And the riverperson makes an appearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Undertale owned by Toby Fox

The black sand reacted faster than they could, surging into the void demon's chest and throwing him wide. Their armor wasn't just for show, it was thick and tough enough to take a decent hit. Somehow, they were still bleeding, never mind the fact that it felt like they'd run a marathon just trying to lessen the force of the blow. Now, Animus was no stranger to fighting and they'd seen their fair share of trouble over the years. They knew when they were outmatched and had a good sense of when it was time to cut and run.

But when they got it into their head that they were going to do something, come heaven or hell, they were going to see it done. So, whether it was the gash in their side or the bitter sting of their pride at being hurt so bad so quickly that kept them from turning tail while the creature was down for the count... They didn't just run back to the elevator, despite the fact that it was only a few feet away. When they looked up and realized that the soul shard wasn't in the demon cat's hand anymore, they were up and moving before they rightly knew it. He had to have dropped it, it had to be somewhere nearby.

A sudden weight slammed into them and the next thing they knew, they were being pinned to the ground somewhere _far_ too close to the edge of the walkway. Light spilled up from somewhere underneath them while they wrestled with him, somehow failing to cut through the shadows covering the void demon's face. Stars _damnit_ he was strong, stronger than any human they'd ever fought, stronger than any of their own that they'd ever sparred with. Just keeping his claws from ripping out their throat was about all they could do while their magic and sand were busy gripping onto the platform, bracing them so he couldn't simply fling them off and be done with it.

Perhaps they were managing to put up a half decent fight but that manic grin of his was still there, sharp and vicious, gleeful, angry. They could feel the shift in his intent like a sting in the air, curling rancidly together as if he thought he'd already won. And it cut deep, piercing their soul with a vicious stab of fear like they'd only ever felt once or twice in their whole miserable existence. The sudden flare in their magic _hurt_ , sparking wildly from a soul that could hardly bear it, fed from some frantic, primal part of them that left determination racing swiftly in its wake.

Suddenly, the demon was off them, rag dolling across the metal platform towards the far side. They hadn't seen what happened, they didn't care, Animus was a little too busy scrambling away from the edge and trying to catch their breath. The black sand helped, steadying them when they didn't think they could hold themself upright anymore. Everything hurt, there was a bitter sting in what ever wound he'd left in them and their soul burned inside like it was somehow too full and too empty all at once.

They could barely move, their body felt like lead and his magic was still hazing the air so thick it left a taste like bile in the back of their throat. They didn't have a red soul, souls didn't work like that for people like them. Sure, they had determination, the will to live, to fight back, but it wasn't like they could turn back time like Frisk or Chara could. It wasn't like their entire soul was made of the stuff, they had their fair share but it was a balance, an equilibrium. Personality traits didn't define a soul type, not for them, not for their kind.

The creature started picking itself back up and their soul nearly burst from fright when they felt all of that killing intent zero in on them again. A bitter hiss cut through the air as he rose back to his feet from where they'd thrown him, a brief flicker of light catching their eye from a gash torn in the front of his coat. The soul shard they'd been looking for was there, buried in his chest, black magic and dust leaking out around it like a rancid wound. Wait... black? He surged towards them and Animus cut loose their magic with a frantic cry, blinding light tinged with orange lancing towards the void demon.

It was the wrong color but that didn't seem to matter a whole lot. If anything, it helped them. The asshole must have mistaken it for human magic, orange magic, because he didn't stop, taking the whole thing square in the face and falling backward with a blood curdling screech. More of that black magic was bleeding from where they'd hit him and dust was starting to clog around his fingers while he clawed away at himself, rolling around on the floor like they'd just gotten him with a whole can of mace.

It suddenly made a lot more sense why he'd been able to hurt them so badly, why every instinct they had told them to run. His magic was pure darkness itself, a manifestation of the void, the complete opposite of their own. They'd need to disinfect the wound, wash it out with something strong that could purify it. Stars knew what was on his claws, he could have poisoned them for all they knew! It was only _natural_ , they had every _right_ to be afraid, but they didn't need to let that fear control them.

By the time his screaming had died down to pained gasping and snarling, Animus was thinking a fair bit clearer themself. And by the time he was on his feet again, facing off against them for another assault, they knew why he'd been able to overpower them so quickly. His magic was bleeding into the air, corrupting his surroundings, claiming the entire area as _his_ domain. Territory was an important part of any kind of fight and they'd already walked blindfolded into hell. The _only_ thing they had going for them was the fact that he didn't understand _why_ their magic suddenly hurt so much.

That failing would be his downfall. He was ignorant, he'd _failed_ to learn about his enemy in the time they'd been fighting, _convinced_ he'd kill them before it would make any sort of difference. Animus _never_ made that mistake, even if they'd been too _frantic_ to make sense of much in the past few minutes. Normally, you didn't think twice about the dirt beneath your feet, all of the people who walked that same path before you... all of the creatures that probably died to feed the grass inches from your toes. Reasonably, seeing that dirt suddenly rear up and spray him in the face had left him second guessing himself, mistake number _two_.

The void demon was cautious now, understandable given the fact that they'd been unable to do much more than throw him until then. Of course, he didn't know that they only had about one more blast like that left in them. And they were _just_ clever enough, to make the most of it. There wasn't a whole lot of time for planning or asking themself if they had enough magic to pull off what they were thinking. So instead of pausing to catch their breath or consider that, _yeah,_ this might not be the best idea... Animus threw out every ounce of strength they had left to spare, releasing their magic in a sudden blinding flare of light.

The weight lifted off of them and it was like they could breathe again, their own magic washing away the corrupted energy hanging in the air. They didn't wait to hear the void demon scream as their magic swept over and past him, didn't pause to see if it had hurt or even startled him. Instead, they charged towards him while they could still move freely, driving their shoulder into his ribs. His back hit the elevator doors and something inside of him snapped. There was a sickening crack and then he was scrabbling at their back, claws ripping at their armor. That, was his _third_ and _final_ mistake.

By the time he figured out what they were trying and had half a mind to throw them off, that soul shard was already in their grip. The void demon did all of the hard work for them, flinging them away from him with every ounce of his unnatural strength. The shard slipped easily free of his chest. It only took him a moment to realize his mistake and he was already racing towards them by the time they struck the elevator on the other side. But what ever other worldly power gave him the right to exist with magic that was so slogged down with darkness and cruelty, it wasn't enough to keep him going without the soul shard they'd taken from him.

It was just a good thing he ran out of steam when he did, because they were pretty certain they didn't have a whole lot of fight left in them. Shell shocked and breathing like they'd just run screaming out of hell, they watched as his legs gave out underneath him and he tumbled to a stop a bit too close for comfort. The cruel magic and intent dropped out of the air. Shaking and feeling numb, Animus wiped off the shard, wrapping their own soul around it to keep it safe.

The added weight in their chest felt so much worse than it should have, their soul already hurt and it wasn't like they had a whole lot of magic left to go around. Still, intent was the important bit where souls were concerned and it didn't matter how worn thin or beaten up they'd gotten... They didn't have it in them to hurt Gaster... They never would have even considered taking the shard for themself. So even with it sitting snugly in the center of their own busted up soul, it still stayed just as it was, they didn't absorb it.

After they were certain it was safe, they let their gaze sweep over the creature lying motionless in front of them, resting against the elevator doors as they tried to gather their strength. There was just barely enough spite left in them to huff out a bitter remark while they reached into their inventory and pulled out a small bottle of soul supplements. "Get dunked on." Animus downed the whole thing, feeling a whole lot better right after. Not that it stopped them from glaring down at the void demon as it crumbled away to dust just a few feet shy of touching them. It didn't stop them from muttering crossly under their breath, despite the fact they were certain he was already too far gone to hear them. "Fucking psychopath." And then he was gone, his dust scattering into nothing seconds later with a haze of glitching static.

A stitch in their side reminded them of the hits he'd landed and feeling completely spent, they pulled a medical kit free of their inventory. It always paid to be prepared, though they'd never gotten the chance to use it before and a part of them wished it had stayed that way. There was one pleasant surprise waiting for them when they opened it. All of the items they'd enchanted had a nice healthy glow about them, despite the fact that they'd set it up prior to being snapped up by this new world.

At this point, they didn't question it, they'd seen stranger since coming here. So, Animus just snatched up a phial of golden liquid and tipped sideways to pour it over the gashes in their side, sighing in quiet relief when the burning died down. They'd still have to wash the wounds out once they had a chance to rest properly. But as they picked up another phial and let its contents seep into the wounds in their back, they were forced to admit that they couldn't just stay there and wait for their weariness to pass them by.

As tired as they were, someone was bound to notice them, they didn't have the energy to mask themself. So, still stiff and sore, they tucked together the medical kit and slipped it back into their inventory, limping their way over to the other elevator. No sense staying in the middle of a dented metal pathway with their blood all over the place. They had _just_ enough sense to gather up their black sand before the doors closed behind them. The ride was unpleasant, even if it was smooth, all things considered.

If nothing else, they'd stopped bleeding so that was something at least. But the vibrations of the damn thing moving kept sending jolts of pain lancing up their back and ripping into their side. Stumbling out of the large metal box was a relief when it finally came to a stop, though they were forced to admit to themself that they were lost a few seconds later. The underground was a whole lot bigger than the game let on and it was a whole lot more complicated too. But they didn't have the nerve to jump back in the elevator and try to figure out what they'd done wrong.

The ride had hurt enough the first time around, they'd rather take their chances with walking. So after wandering aimlessly around what they assumed was the core, they found a nice quiet corner to rest in, secluded from prying eyes. And they set about stitching themself back together. The stitches would have to come out again so they could clean the wounds properly, they knew that well enough. But for the time being, it was better to make sure they didn't loose any more blood or leave a trail behind. In the end they only stopped for a short while, just long enough to sort themself out and put their armor back on. Then, Animus was right back to trying to figure out where they were and where they had to go next.

It felt like a punch in the gut when they found the next elevator, some prickling itch telling them that it would lead them to trouble. Of course, they'd come down into the underground looking for trouble, hadn't they? So, despite every instinct screaming at them not to, they climbed on the elevator and prepared themself as best they could while it hummed along to its next destination. It was a damn good thing they couldn't overdose on the soul supplements they'd made, because they were pretty sure they were eating more of the things in a single night than all of the other times they'd used them all tallied up together. Right about then, they were actually grateful for the only real side effect they'd noticed after taking them. A sugar rush in the middle of feeling dead on their feet? Yes please. It wasn't like addiction was a concern, they'd already burned that bridge and danced on its ashes.

By the time the elevator came to a stop, they were already preparing their magic, ready to square off against what ever hell was waiting for them. But what they found out there wasn't another bloodthirsty void demon ready to tear out their throat. The magic in the air was still heavy and dark, chilling in a way that they were quickly starting to associate with the void. And yet, there was no hostile intent, no blood thirst, no recognition. The colorless monster on the metal platform didn't even seem to notice them when Animus stepped out. Instead, he just kept staring off into nothing, as if looking for answers to questions he didn't dare ask.

Then, he was speaking, his voice low and melancholy. "It makes sense why Asgore took so long to hire a new Royal Scientist. After all, the old one.... Doctor Gaster. What an act to follow!" They froze up when they heard him, skittish despite themself. After the mess they'd run into with the last void demon, they didn't trust this one would stay docile. But there was no shift in the air, no sudden vile sting at the back of their throat telling them he was going to attack. He just stood there, sad and thoughtful, as if regretting the life he'd led. "They say he created the Core. However, his life... was cut short. One day, he fell into his creation, and..."

There was a pause, he turned to look at them, something old and weary in his eyes that stung worse than anything the other colorless monster could have ever done to them. "Will Alphys end up the same way?" Then, he was gone, leaving a small glowing shard behind where he'd been standing. Animus had mixed feelings about taking the piece of Gaster he'd surrendered. They understood suicide, in a detached, academic sense. They could trace the reasoning, recognize the patterns of behavior that led up to it. But the thought of willingly surrendering one's own life was impossible for them to grasp.

Dying in the midst of combat was one thing, putting one's self at risk to protect others was common sense. But this? They could only do their best to banish the memory of those sad eyes from their mind as they continued on, slipping the new shard into place beside the other. The heavy feeling in their chest was just a result of taking on their newest burden, they didn't regret it. The void demon must have done something to them, that was why they felt so uncomfortable in their own skin when they took the next elevator down.

Finding the colorless monster after that was much easier. This time, Animus didn't get lost because the other soul shards seemed drawn to it and they'd grown used to the feel of the void. Following the chill it left behind wasn't all that hard, even without the pieces of Gaster guiding them along... Though, the shards did keep them from running into any more dead ends or traveling in circles. The core was built like a maze and there was more than one time that they were certain the hallways were moving. It felt like the place was shifting around, rearranging itself every so often. They wouldn't have put it past Gaster to build something like that into it, he was just clever enough to pull it off.

Still, even more unsettling than the changing hallways of the core, was the next demon they ran into. He was bigger than them, by far and had a horrifying smile that nearly seemed to split his head in half. His body looked much too small to support it and his eyes were large as dinner plates, glossy like he was blind. This one was talking the moment they stepped off the elevator, grinning at them like mad. The smile was _more_ than enough to get them to summon their magic again, taking a half step back. It wasn't like they had anywhere to go though, the doors had already closed behind them. "I understand why Asgore waited so long to hire a new royal scientist. The previous one... Dr. Gaster. His brilliance was irreplaceable."

Animus shifted carefully, strafing around the demon, watching him for any signs of movement, waiting for the intent in the air to shift or change. His gaze followed them but that was all, it felt like he was _trying_ to spook them. "However, his life... was cut short. One day, his experiments went wrong, and...." That horrible smile twitched even wider. The demon somehow seemed to get even _larger_ , as if he'd been slouching and was _finally_ standing up straight again. "Well, I needn't gossip. After all..."

Those blind eyes flicked to the side, as if looking over their shoulder at someone just behind them. "It's rude to talk about someone who's listening." It felt like their soul was lodged in their throat. Animus was quick to spin around, their sand whirling into a shield to guard against... absolutely nothing. There was no one there and the intent had dropped out of the air. They slowly turned back to where the demon was, another glowing shard hovering abandoned in front of them, waiting to be taken. At least this one had made sense damnit!

Taking the soul shard it left behind had them feeling frustrated and upset but that was because he'd made them look like a damn _fool!_ Their magic was sparking and agitated by the time they left, black sand hovering over them like a grim cloud, ready to be used at a moment's notice. It was a damn good thing they didn't run into anyone looking to start trouble. Because if _Flowey_ had popped up with that false cheerfulness of his or started swinging vines in their direction, _stars_ knew what they might have done.

By the time they'd made it out of the core, Animus had managed to settle their nerves enough to put the sand away, even if there was an itch in their magic that had them ready to call on it again. The river was a sight for sore eyes and it didn't take them long to scoop up some of that water to splash it over their face, grateful for the chill of deep earth. Hotland was, first and foremost, aptly named and they were wearing armor. If the sudden relief wasn't enough to leave them wondering how well they could swim in plate mail or whether it was worth the risk of getting their stitches wet... then it was the fact that there was potent magic in the river. If they stopped for a bit and pulled some of the ambient magic out, they could probably freshen themself up a bit. Hell, it might even help with some of the weariness in their soul.

They were just about ready to try it when they heard an odd sloshing sound accompanied by soft humming. Everything inside of them froze up and they stood still as stone when a familiar figure cloaked head to toe in black, riding on a very familiar looking boat, drifted to a stop right in front of them. There was a moment of intense silence and the river person slowly turned to look at them, head tilted to one side curiously. Then the cloaked figure was singing softly, their boat bumping gently into the riverbank as if they expected Animus to climb aboard. "Tra la la. The waters are wild today. That's good luck."

Well.... at least they wouldn't be _walking_ to Waterfall...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That moment you've seen it all and somehow a dark figure offering to share its boat with you sounds like a good idea. XD


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wait... the riverperson isn't just an extra? 0_0  
> Spooky gives Animus one of their little riddles and they over react.  
> Animus realizes that they over react and proceeds to feel horrified but doesn't apologize for it.  
> Is that character development I smell? No, probably just the void.  
> Gaster!!!!
> 
> Hmmm.... this is probably one of the longest chapters in this fic so far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Undertale owned by Toby Fox

The riverperson had seen many things in their long, quiet life of tending to the weary travelers that stumbled upon them and their little boat. Willowcrest was the patient sort and never objected to their master's call, cutting evenly through the waves if ever they found someone who needed a bit more care. It had been no different on the surface, during the war, when their gentle singing often escorted off those too weak to make the journey. It never came as a surprise to them, life was a fickle thing and fate ever more so. One didn't force fate, what was meant to be would be and what wasn't would never come to pass.

The little rhymes and riddles they shared with their passengers were habit, an old tradition meant to prepare them for what came next, regardless of what that was. There was no real harm in it, they weren't trying to change anything, merely soothe its passing. Fate would decide if it was time or not and fate would decide with whom they spoke and of what. Some thought they were mad, others believed they were mysterious and strange, flippant or uncaring, the list went on forever really. But there was always reason for what they did, even if no one else could see it.

There was a deep magic in the world, sleeping and powerful that every once in a while roused itself, only to return to its peaceful slumber. Those who knew of it, those who recognized it, were the ones who lived long and peaceful lives. At times they seemed fickle themself, whimsical was the right word, coming or going with the wind. There was always reason for it, even if that reason was merely a feeling deep in their magic and soul, something pulling them this way or that. The riverperson had avoided their fair share of soldiers and witch hunters like that, humming along softly as their passengers cowered behind them.

So when they felt something telling them to turn from their aimless meandering drift in Waterfall, they followed it. The night was quiet and peaceful until then, waking with a grim feeling that left them mildly curious for all it was. And with nothing better to do, the riverperson turned towards Hotland, following the strange pull in the air. From the first moment they saw them, their interest was peaked, a dark figure hunched over the river with more sorrow and anger alongside them than anyone they'd ever seen before.

It was obvious they'd found trouble, their coat was ripped up and the armor they were wearing had seen far better days. The armor itself was curious, stained a deep black that made them blend into the shadows, as ironic as that was all things considered. A soul unlike any other, wounded and dim, clinging together through sheer stubbornness, flickering with _light._ It was no human soul, no monster soul, not even something in between, sheltering the broken bits of some other poor unfortunate creature. So many cracks laced through them, some reaching deep, others merely skimming the surface. And at once, they knew this one wouldn't be leaving them at the docks.

The stranger stilled as they came to a stop in front of them, Willowcrest bobbing gently with the current. They were one entity, two parts of a single whole, never a word that need pass between them. So when the stranger made no move to speak or approach, they simply tilted their head, singing softly as their boat drifted into place and steadied for their newest passenger. They didn't know why they said what they did, it was just a feeling, something fed by the roughed up look of their passenger and a sense they got from the air itself. "Tra la la. The waters are wild today. That's good luck." And for all the distrust and grimness that shadowed the stranger, the riverperson had millennia's worth of experience soothing weary souls. So it was only natural that they gingerly slipped aboard, moving with a stiffness that betrayed their wounds.

There was something old in them, something ancient and familiar that shadowed their every move as they settled in the bottom of their boat, threading their fingers through the water. Yet the riverperson paid it no mind as Willowcrest drifted away from the shore and turned back the way they'd come, humming softly to no one in particular. Sometimes, people paid them for their fare, not that they ever asked for it, not that they ever needed it. As far as they were concerned, the company was reward enough. Life was so very uncomplicated, adrift in the endless tide.

They would go where they were needed and live as they pleased, the child of _red_ had learned that the hard way. This stranger of _gold_ would be no harm, yet as they entered Waterfall, another wash of inspiration fell over them. It was odd, an old saying that the riverperson hadn't thought of in centuries. And yet, it left them smoothly, swaying in the cold drafts around them in lieu of the gentle breeze above. "A fleeting spark in the darkness offers false hope to lost souls." They could feel the moment the stranger's head snapped up, their gaze piercing straight through them despite the mask they wore concealing their eyes from view. There was a stillness in the air, a harshness to their intent, protective and wild... that was... unexpected.

Silence stood between them for what seemed nothing short of an eternity, something intrusive rolling over them that felt _very_ different from a normal _check._ It was more like the stranger was groping them with their magic, poking and prodding roughly in search of intent and motivation, their reasons for being there, for speaking to them. It was uncomfortable, yet they paid it no mind, watching curiously for what they would do. Finally, the stranger's voice broke their silence, quiet and measured, yet there was an undeniable weight behind their every word. It almost sounded like a threat... how... odd. "That may be. But one may wish upon a shooting star and rest knowing it shall carry their secrets far from prying eyes. One may look upon the sky and know that in time, it will return... Perhaps, with the intention of answering their silent prayers."

In all their years, the riverperson had many who questioned their riddles and rhymes, those who wished for explanation or meaning, answers. But never in all that time had anyone grasped such meanings themselves, never had they answered their riddles with riddles of their own. It was like a weight had lifted from them and the riverperson turned back to the shadowed tunnels around them, humming softly. It was not long after that when Willowcrest dipped lower in the water, rocking gently back up and into place. There was no sound, no whisper of emotion or intent that betrayed them.

The stranger was gone.... they hadn't left them at the docks.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The boat ride was smooth and quiet, soothing in a way Animus hadn't felt in a long time. They listened quietly to the riverperson's humming as they threaded their fingers through the water, pulling gently at the magic inside. Siphoning off their surroundings or other living creatures was another one of their little racial perks, something they could do even when they were dead tired. Sometimes it kicked up without them trying, sometimes it started when they didn't want it to.

As a child growing up, they didn't understand it, there was no one to hold their hand and explain what was happening to them, just a strange buzzing in their hands that made them want to curl up and hide from the world. Something inside of them told them not to touch, to pull away quickly even if it didn't make any sense. Later on, they understood. Something inside of them just knew and they'd started putting seals on themself. They didn't know how they knew what they were doing, just that it would work and when it didn't they knew how to fix it.

These days they had a better grasp of things, seals weren't necessary, though they found themself flinching away from contact every now and then. Magic was a fickle thing, reacting to the soul and its needs above all else, sometimes without conscious thought or desire. That was why children lashed out so often without meaning to, why things broke around them without explanation, why they could flinch through something that should have hurt them and come out okay. It didn't help that everyone had been raised by humans for so long, or well, people who thought they were human. They didn't know if anyone else remembered, if anyone else knew, their parents certainly hadn't and look how well that turned out?

The world as it was just wasn't meant for them, humans had claimed everything, twisting it in ways that gouged at the soul and wounded the spirit. So much needless suffering, so much greed, so much cruelty.... They could only cling to the possibility that this world might be even the smallest bit different. Magic kin survived here after all and magic kin were weaker than they were. If hopelessness and despair could kill them outright, they'd have died a long time ago. If the magic kin were still here, there had to be _something_ different, something that might make it even just a little bit easier.

The riverperson's humming cut out and they sang softly to them, it felt like Animus' soul froze in their chest. "A fleeting spark in the darkness offers false hope to lost souls." They knew! Horrified and angry that they'd let their guard down, they let their magic sweep over the dark figure, searching for intent. There was nothing there, at least, nothing hostile, nothing cruel. The chill about them wasn't the void, it was quiet and gentle like sleep, just cool enough to be comfortable.

It wasn't the presence of a shadow, it wasn't the presence of a void demon.... it felt uncomfortably close to one of their own. Gentle and soothing in a way that was different but not dangerous, there was a stutter in their magic as they pulled away, feeling a spark of curiosity from the other creature. They'd gone too deep, any further and they would have been staring at the riverperson's soul. That was unacceptable! The riverperson had no defence against such intrusions! It would have bordered on the same kind of **_wrong_** as pedophilia!

It took them a few solid minutes to gather themself after that, mortified that they'd allowed themself to get so carried away in their paranoia. It was just a good thing it was so dark around them, the cloaked figure probably couldn't see the embarrassment that colored their face, despite the fact that Animus had a good feeling they resembled a tomato at this point. Looking at another person's soul was all fine and well as long as they had the ability to _shield_ it, to decide that _no_ , you didn't have a right to look.

But for kids and people who couldn't? It was like instinct, something programmed into their soul that said _this isn't okay_ in such a violent manner that calling it an aversion wouldn't cut it. It was wrong, it was perverse, depraved. There was no amount of self flagellation that would make it right, so horrified and embarrassed that they were actually _grateful_ they'd stopped. What were they thinking? Even facing against the void demons, they hadn't gone that far! They'd waited, parsed through the intent in the air, what was wrong with them?

A bitter twist in their chest answered that for them. It wasn't just their life on the line. If they let themself get killed now, they'd probably take the pieces of Gaster with them. That couldn't be allowed to happen. They had something to protect, someone to protect. An odd feeling pulsed inside of their soul, surprising and almost, just _almost_ enough to make them forgive themself. They had someone to protect.... they had **_someone_** to protect! There was a tick in their mind, something telling them that they should be happy, excited, fulfilled, even if they couldn't feel it in their soul. It was enough to recenter their mental state, make them forget how much their everything hurt for just a short while.

So, instead of apologizing or beating themself up any further, they turned a cold stare up at the riverperson. Their voice was harsh in a way they didn't like, cold and sharp like a knife cutting through the air. There was no point in trying to fix it. "That may be. But one may wish upon a shooting star and rest knowing it shall carry their secrets far from prying eyes. One may look upon the sky and know that in time, it will return... Perhaps, with the intention of answering their silent prayers." They felt a flush of surprise, elation, joy coming off of the riverperson and they returned to their humming.

It wasn't enough, they were still on edge and the riverperson didn't deserve to be stuck dealing with them any longer. So with their soul still humming protectively inside of them, they grappled onto the nearest object with their sand and slipped away. They didn't regret leaving, even if the riverperson had seemed so _happy_ that they'd actually answered them. Maybe it was just Gaster's soul that made them feel somehow heavier for it, now that the river and the magic it held were behind them. They could find a new source, something else to siphon from, Waterfall had many rivers.

That strange feeling of peace the riverperson had hovering about them somehow followed Animus, soothing their jagged edges. So when they found the next void demon, much sooner than they'd expected, they didn't feel anywhere near as hostile. They lingered quietly, listening patiently as the small armless lizard monster spoke to no one in particular. For a moment, they almost felt _something,_ their mind telling them that they should have empathized with the small sad creature, even if the emotion was absent.

"Have you ever thought about a world where everything is exactly the same... Except you don't exist?" They didn't interrupt him, didn't try to steal the soul shard early, even if it was in full view, curled gently in the coils of his tail. "Everything functions perfectly without you... Ha, ha... The thought terrifies me." He turned towards them, wide, blind eyes pinched in a way that made it look like he should have been crying. There was an unspoken question in the air, quiet and defeated that spoke from his expression rather than anything else. It was like he was asking them _it's time for me to go now, right?_ Then, he was gone, leaving the soul shard behind. Animus claimed it without a second thought, slipping it into place and starting on their way.

It took them a few seconds to realize that their eyes were watering, something bitterly confused twinging inside of them as they reached up to wipe away the moisture leaking from under their helmet. There wasn't much, just a little bit of water gleaming off their gauntlets when they pulled away. Why were they... crying? This didn't make any sense. They weren't sad, they didn't feel anything.... Wait... they didn't feel anything? A rush of understanding hit them all at once. They were disassociating, did that mean... they _were_ sad? Then came a screaming headache that told them it wasn't worth the effort. They would try to make sense of it later, after they'd gotten a few hours of sleep to make up for the mess they'd gotten themself into. And with that decision in mind, they began to follow the gentle tugging of Gaster's soul.

Without the soul shards guiding them, they probably would have gotten lost. Waterfall was large, far larger than they would have expected with many twisting passages and branching crevices that would have been difficult to navigate alone. Somehow, their soul felt brighter than it had in a long time which confused them. The added strain of sustaining another living soul should have left them feeling weaker, they could certainly feel it in the rest of them. Everything felt heavy and stiff, their body _aching_ from all of the bruises and bumps and wounds they'd collected. Their energy levels were doing a bit better thanks to the boat ride but it still felt like they needed to gather more magic to recover their strength which made _sense!_

Too many things were ending up jumbled and confusing, contradicting one another in ways that they just couldn't _deal_ with. Animus would file away the discordant bits of information and try to arrange them into something at least _resembling_ sanity once they'd rested a bit. And on that note, they stopped by a stream they'd been passing, sitting down to rest their strained ankles and tendons while they pulled magic out of the water. The incessant tugging of Gaster's pieces had them up and moving the moment they'd gathered a decent bit, making them too restless to linger. They were grateful for their meandering walk through the marshes and reed beds, it was vastly preferable to how their journey began. _Okay_ , to be _fair_ , it hadn't started off all that bad.

The ride up to the mountain had been quiet and they'd avoided running into any security guards so that had been nice. But a peaceful ride and a successful infiltration didn't just _magically_ erase their injuries. They'd be feeling the consequences of facing against that first demon for a while, especially if they had to use even _more_ magic to bring back the head of the skeleton family, which they certainly would. During their walk, they munched on a few more soul supplements, uncertain of what exactly would be waiting for them.

Looking into the past was one thing, scrying the present was fairly easy too, but the future? No, that was strictly _guide_ territory and they were a _guardian._ Sure, they could catch glimpses, bits and pieces of what was to come, but never anything concrete and who's to say it would even happen anyway? The chances of them being met with certainty were about as good as the chances of dying from bungee jumping. It wasn't _impossible_ per say and it was even something that a lot of people would just assume to be very, very, common. But where the future was concerned, the slightest thing could change it, even just a momentary pause because, _oh hey, dejavu!_

It always paid to be wary, to trust one's eyes and instincts more than any kind of vision or divination or anything like that. So, even when Animus found themself standing in front of a blank grey door, they paused to go through their inventory. They ignored the gentle tugging of Gaster's soul shards and they pulled out one of the care kits they'd packed for the darkest night... Which, due to recent developments had gone unused. A slight smirk twitched across their lips when they opened it up and found gleaming magic staring back at them. If all of the _important_ things they'd enchanted ended up this way because of the sudden transition, they were going to have a much easier go of things in the future. Plucking up a phial of what appeared to be liquid gold, they turned it over in their hands, peering at the number on the side. It was labeled with a scrawling thirteen, excellent.

The samples of magic inside were essentially pick me ups, a bit of soul energy and magic in a bottle to keep them going past their normal limits, arranged and labeled based on potency. The higher the number, the more potent it was, scaling from one to twenty five. They didn't need a twenty five, if the magic in the phials had gained potency, as they suspected, a twelve probably would have been enough. But they didn't survive this long without taking precautions, so they uncorked the phial and drank its contents, sighing in relief immediately afterward.

It wasn't enough to fix them, they would need the services of a _healer_ for something like that. Even still, it definitely packed the sort of punch they'd been expecting. And, grateful for a brief moment of peace, they took some of the combat rations from their care kit and started eating with their back resting against the door. As long as they stayed where they were, it would still be there when they were ready to face Gaster and what ever else was waiting for them in there.

The dried meat was a little tough, maybe they should find a way to make it more tender next time. No, that was pointless, if they wanted it softer, they'd have to leave more moisture in the jerky and that meant it wouldn't keep as well. Did monster food go bad in this world? Did their cooking count as monster food? Oh... okay... that was actually something they _should_ look into a bit. It would be a little embarrassing to find out they'd been _accidentally_ serving monster food for several weeks _after_ the fact. With a huff of defeat, they put away their snack and tucked the care kit back into their inventory, surrendering to the pull of the soul shards. Feeling a whole lot more tense the moment they grabbed the handle, Animus cautiously cracked the door open and peeked inside.

There was nothing, just an empty room that reeked of the void. Everything inside of them insisted that this was a bad idea, everything except _of course,_ the pieces of Gaster. So, flaring their magic defensively, they delicately paced inside, muffling their footfalls with a thin haze of their magic. As they approached the center of the room, a thin figure slowly faded into existence, dressed in black, hunched in on itself. A quick scan of the room confirmed that there was nothing else there and they allowed themself another few moments to examine the person in front of them.

The soul shards seemed to confirm his identity so that wasn't much of a concern... but... his condition.... Gaster looked horrible, every part of him drooping and viscus like an amalgamate, bits of him bubbling away just to circle back and reattach themselves. There was a distinct, hazy look of _not quite here_ that lingered about him, fuzzing his edges and leaving him looking like he would disappear the moment they looked away. He wasn't moving either, eye sockets empty of light, devoid of recognition or change, likely signaling that he was unconscious.... that was probably for the best.

The moment they pulled his soul shards free, surrounding them in magic to keep them stable, Gaster's wisps flared to life. There was a gasp like he'd just woken from a nightmare or pulled himself from the depths of some freezing pond. And a sudden wash of horror flooded over Animus, radiating from the dripping figure in front of them. He was shaking, trembling, a terror unlike anything they'd ever seen before rippling across his once still features. Because he knew what they held, knew what they could do to him if they felt so inclined and there was _nothing_ he could do to stop it. The soul shards were buzzing, twitching, pulsing with a manic rhythm of fear from inside the haze of their magic.

Something twitched deep in their own soul at the sight of him cowering in front of them, something painful and bitter that felt _almost_ like sympathy. It wasn't the same, it wasn't deep enough or intense enough but it still filled them with a distant sense of melancholy. And without taking their eyes off of Gaster, they allowed their magic to mend what was broken, his soul shards clicking back together with an audible cracking sound. It probably looked bad on his side, there was a flash of light and a cracking sound. He doubled over, gasping and wheezing, spasming, grasping at his chest as a crackle of static chased his every breath. But the viscus liquid that seemed to make up his entire being was being leeched away, slowly condensing into something solid.

It only took a little while for him to pull himself back together, at least, in the physical sense. Panic still seemed to be about the only thing in his mind at the moment, working his shuddering breaths into a frenzy and leaving him trembling on his knees, arms wrapped almost protectively around his rib cage. They couldn't blame him. Could skeletons hyperventilate? Could they pass out from doing so? Best not test that theory, unnecessary stress was probably very bad for him in his current state.

So, being certain they tapped the hooves on their greaves against the floor in order to avoid startling him, Animus slowly paced towards Gaster. The skeleton only seemed to fold in on himself even more, looking for all the world, as if he was simply waiting for them to finish him off. They knelt in front of him and slowly, gently, set their free hand against one of his shoulders. The way he flinched was to be expected, the stutter in his manic breathing understandable. But when several moments passed and they made no move to harm him, he finally managed to force himself to look up.

Surprise was the first thing they noticed in him, confusion and a pale shadow of hope. It hurt to look at, even when they slowly brought forward what was now four shards made one. Their voice was quieter than they'd meant it to be, softer, gentle in a way they didn't think they were still capable of. If nothing else, he seemed to respond favorably to it. "I believe, this belongs to you." There was disbelief, hesitation, the same sort of caution one would expect to see in a stray animal. It was obvious that he didn't trust them, even without his emotions bleeding into the air.

It was as if he expected this to be some kind of elaborate trick, a cruel joke, as if he thought they were offering him hope merely to destroy it the instant he reached out to grasp it. But reach out he did, slowly and shaking all the while, watching for any sign that they were going to betray him. Animus remained absolutely still, hardly daring to breathe. And when they felt his own feeble power reach out to the piece of himself they'd been carrying with them, they wordlessly surrendered it. Gaster scrambled backwards the instant it was free, perhaps out of blind instinct, they didn't know how much of his mind was still in tact. That would be another question for later. Fixing the soul of a monster or a human was one thing, fixing a broken mind.... that would be much more difficult.

There was no grand change in him the instant his magic whisked the shard back into place behind his ribs. He simply stayed where he was, now boxed into a corner some distance away from them. Fear still hung heavy in the air, nearly drowning out the void's presence itself. But alongside that fear was now a cautious sort of curiosity, not the innocent sort favored by children, but a suspicious kind that made it obvious that he was trying to figure out the _why_ in their current situation. And they let him puzzle, grateful for their armor which seemed to keep the worst of the void's energies from reaching them, even if their very nature didn't.

In the time being, they watched and waited, scouring over every inch of him they could see. The _goopy_ consistency was gone. He looked solid, or _more_ solid specifically. That hazy quality still clung to him, making him look like a ghost... or, well, the superstitious depictions of one. If they had to take a guess, there were probably pieces of him missing still. That wasn't good, he wouldn't be able to leave the void with an incomplete soul. If he tried, he'd collapse into dust, likely completely aware of it as his broken soul fragmented. That would be painful, very very painful and it would completely destroy all of their hard work.

So, after the fear seemed to have died down to no more than a faint whisper in the air, they slowly turned towards him, raising to their full height and doing their best not to seem intimidating. They waited like that for a while, watching him for any change, keeping their clawed gauntlets in full view, poised in a manner that would make it obvious if they tried preparing for an attack.... at least... from his perspective. Intent was something every magic kin could sense, but they didn't trust him to be able to read it properly, despite the protective feeling they let drift away from them.

When he showed no signs of growing defensive or hostile, they slowly began to approach, watching for any indication that they'd overstepped. Nothing, though they stopped at a respectful distance rather than pressing their luck, kneeling down to his level so they could speak without looming over him. Again, their voice was softer than they were expecting it to be, gentler, kinder, even if that was what they'd been going for. But he'd responded favorably the last time so they didn't try to change it, willing some of their own magic into the words to help soothe. They didn't want to influence him too much, didn't want to force him into anything, even if it would be a very bad thing to leave him there. "I can get you out of here, but it will involve interacting directly with your soul. Do I have your consent?"

Realistically, they probably could have marched straight into the room, put the shards back together, forced his broken soul back into _roughly_ one piece and hauled him back out without asking. Realistically, they could have fixed everything in a fraction of the time. There wasn't strictly any need to treat him like a skittish child, no need to ask his permission. It felt wrong. For some reason, they couldn't bring themself to be impatient despite their wounds and the weariness in their soul. Their headache was getting worse too, slowly building into something they were sure was going to haunt them for days if not longer. It didn't matter. If he said no.... they'd find another way.

For the longest time, he simply stared at them, something intelligent and critical sharpening the flecks of light in his eye sockets. Then, without a word, he silently pulled his broken soul free of his chest. It was worse than they thought, there was barely any more than half of it left. If they were any other kind of creature, if he was missing even just that small bit more, there would be nothing they could do. They must have showed it somehow, given something away, because his expression leeched away into something impassive, nearly devoid of emotion.

His broken soul dimmed and they reached out without thinking, grasping his wrist a short distance away from the magic still holding him together. They were gentle for the most part, though their voice was firm, unyielding when it left them. "It only looks bad." The soul brightened, it almost looked like he flinched, wisps locked onto them, searching for any sign of falsehood. And rather than waiting for him to find any of the uncertainty they felt themself, they let go and gently cupped their hands around his soul. Gaster immediately went rigid, his breaths going from steady to shallow, slightly stuttered.

It made sense, only a fool would trust someone with their soul like this. They tried not to look at it, even with his permission, it still felt wrong. So, swallowing every hesitation and thought of failure that the void's presence seemed determined to drag back into being, they gently cradled the core of his being near their own chest and closed their eyes. As far as they knew, no one had ever attempted anything like this before, though theoretically, it was possible. They'd already proven that a monster's soul, or more accurately, an incomplete monster soul, could survive as long as it was sheltered by the magic or soul of another creature.

If they were _human_ , parting with any of their own soul would be suicide unless certain measures were taken to keep them stable after loosing it. If they were _human,_ recovery would be impossible even if survival could be guaranteed. They weren't human, they could safely part with up to _half_ of the total volume of their soul _and_ recover from it. It would take time, they would be weak and the journey home would be perilous... They couldn't remember the last time they'd surrendered so much of themself for anything.

It didn't matter. This was the _only_ viable course of action. And they began, vaguely aware of Gaster in only the loosest sense of the word, their full attention directed to their current task. When they finally opened their eyes, he was entirely solid, unconscious, collapsed against the wall behind him, his broken soul sitting safely in the center of a capsule of magic made from half of everything they were. With no time to waste, they slipped the pulsing ball of light inside of his chest and swept him into their arms.

He was so much lighter than he should have been... that was probably a bad sign. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How many of you started worrying when The Riverperson noted that Animus wouldn't be leaving them at the docks? ;P


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get to see things from Gaster's perspective for a change.  
> A flash back to the day he was lost and then his rescue from the void.  
> I'm not sure if this is considered body horror?  
> There's definitely unpleasantness in this chapter so... you've been warned.  
> Also... Animus sucks at first impressions...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Undertale owned by Toby Fox

"Hurry up! We're going to be late!!!" Gaster watched his son dart about their Snowdin home with a watchful eye, nervous despite his best efforts. When Sans had first expressed interest in an internship at the labs, he'd been against it immediately. For all of the safety precautions they took, science was never strictly safe. There were accidents, rare though they might be. One accident would have been enough, one mistake, one critical error. Over time however, his eldest had eventually worn him down, managing to get him to agree on the condition that he remain at his side at all times. It wasn't the best compromise, but he couldn't ignore the sudden swell of pride in his soul at the sight of his son pulling on a lab coat of his very own. He'd always wanted the best for his children, always.

Today was the day, their work was nearly complete. The years of dedication, the endless pressure of so many placing their hopes on him and his team. It had taken a great many monsters to get them where they were today, faces that had left them long before they reached their final goal. All of the pain and suffering, the blood and dust, Asgore's grief, the nightmares that tormented those who survived the war. All of it would be over, at long last, they would finally make it right.The portal opened before them, shimmering and pulsing with the lingering power of Chara's soul. It had been a difficult decision, one that shattered the last shreds of respect and devotion Toriel had for her husband. It wouldn't matter, those deaths would never come to pass.

The world shattered, everything fell apart so quickly, blaring noise and a sudden indescribable pain. It was as if all that he was, was being ripped apart, torn to shreds, scattered into countless fragments that could somehow still feel what was happening to him. _It stopped~_ ... ... ... Asgore's grief, the nightmares that tormented those who survived the war. All of it would be over, at long last, they would finally make it right. The portal opened before them, shimmering and pulsing with the lingering power of Chara's soul. Somehow, it looked... familiar? The red glow of human determination edging it, casting a pale red glow into a pool of endless darkness beyond. The world shattered. Alarms blared. He was torn from his feet... _Pain_ so reaching and endless he could scarcely comprehend it.

Everything righted itself again, his thoughts scattered like locusts. Hadn't he been thinking of something just now? The portal opened before them. Something was wrong. The readings were fine, indicating stability. Had he forgotten something? There was a spike in the negative energy readings, so sudden he couldn't hope to react. Everything fell apart as the temporal anomaly they created warped reality around them. Alarms screamed, ringing in his skull as he was torn from his feet, ripped from the control consoles and flung towards the singularity at its core. _Pain overwhelming._ He screamed, his very soul wailing out in agony as everything he was, scattered into nothing.

Something inside of Gaster stuttered at the sight of the portal opening, a sudden horrible feeling of dread washing over him. This is what they'd been working towards for so long, why was he suddenly terrified of it? A pulse of horror and desperation sparked from one of the young souls still tethered to his own. He turned to find his son, a sudden wash of parental horror sweeping over him. Sans? What was wrong, why was he.... His son was hurrying towards him, leaving the shielding he'd specifically had prepared for him and all of the weaker monsters on staff. What was he thinking!?!? There was a sudden lurch, deafening noise, he was yanked off of his feet. His son screamed in horror, desperation and soon his own screams joined them as agony ripped through his entire being.

Something finally stuck. Maybe it was the look in Sans' wisps, the desperation or the endless despair he'd felt sparking away from his eldest the moment he was ripped off his feet. Because the next time he found himself standing in front of the consoles, perfectly unharmed, he nearly collapsed. Gaster felt horribly ill, only vaguely aware of the humming sounds of machinery flaring to life. He tried to stop it, some screaming instinct telling him that it was dangerous, that it was going to hurt his child. Nothing was working. It was too late, the process wouldn't stop, couldn't stop. They'd lost control... _he'd_ lost control! There was nothing he could do! Again, the world ripped itself apart and this time, it was horrifically familiar, the look in his son's eyes piercing him almost as brutally as the pain that followed.

Panic had him in its grasp an instant later and he was ripping and tearing, summoning what ever magic he could to destroy all of their work and dedication. The others seemed in equal states of shock and recognition, as if they knew what was coming but didn't have a clue what to do about it. Some were collapsed on the floor, weeping, clawing at themselves as if they were trying to rip out their own souls. Cold horror and parental instinct were the only things that kept him on his feet, flinging serrated bones and flares of magic towards the machinery surrounding them. There wasn't enough time, it was too late, he barely even had a second to act before the portal went wild. Pain roared through him again, his soul shattered and somehow, there was still enough of him left to feel despair before the temporal anomaly circled back to where it began once more.

No time to stop it. The machine couldn't be destroyed, couldn't be shut down. Gaster felt Sans' soul flare in desperation... he turned towards his son... It was as if time had slowed to a crawl. The look of broken horror in his eldest's gaze, the flare of his magic sparking in preparation for something. Perhaps he intended to grab him, pull him back behind the barricade. Or maybe he thought he could reach him in time to port them both out of there before he was torn apart again. There was no question, no uncertainty. Gaster spread his senses out in the brief fractions of a second he had, reaching for the room's seal even as he clasped his son's soul in the grasp of his magic. The door hissed open and he flung Sans with all his might, panicked and desperate. _Please, please, let me be in time!_ The world shattered, the young soul still tethered to his own cleared the room and he sealed the door behind him. Everything that he was, screamed in agony.

Darkness surrounded Gaster, endless and eternal. There was no light or warmth, no whisper of comfort nor memory of peace. Only... pain. It consumed his every thought, reached deep inside of his conscious mind. Everything hurt, couldn't think, couldn't bear it. A seeping exhaustion, his magic spread so thin he could scarcely comprehend it. Not worth it, just sleep. He drifted in and out of awareness, too delirious from pain and exhaustion to make sense of when he was awake and when he wasn't. Somewhere during his endless torment, he awoke to find that his magic was less strained. His soul was scattered into countless fragments, somehow still alive, somehow still aware. There was something else... a distant sense of... something... It didn't matter, he was too tired to make any sense of it... he just wanted to rest.

Again, he awoke to find that something had changed. His mind was clearer now, he didn't care, everything hurt, he was so very cold. Muffled voices reached him, from where he couldn't be certain. There was nothing in the void, no light or warmth, no sound. It was a trick of the mind, he was finally loosing himself. For the first time in what felt like millennia, warmth closed around his soul. _What... what was this?_ It was gentle and soothing, making him feel safe, protected, lulling him into a sense of peace that hazed his mind with the edges of sleep. He didn't have the energy to fight it, Gaster slipped back into slumber.

The voices came back, still muffled, still distant, he didn't care what they were saying. Somehow, the pain seemed to have lessened, or maybe he was just getting used to it? No point, thinking was too much effort, being awake was more trouble than it was worth. Something disturbed his fitful slumber and this time he managed to ignore it. His chest hurt, what was left of his soul twitching and shuddering with pain and... something else... _Too much work. Please, no more._ And mercifully, he slept, this time oblivious to the quiet, hazy pull on his fragmented existence. Then he was waking to the feeling of something critical and important, vital, irreplaceable, just within arms reach. All at once, it was like his mind was his own again, snapping back into working order at a moment's notice.

Blinding light assaulted his senses, sparking from a powerful soul standing a short distance in front of him. Too strong to be monster, too bright to be any ordinary human... A mage? Gods... a mage! They were holding pieces of his soul... wait... pieces? Gaster couldn't stop the panic that took hold of him. No... no no no no no! They were holding pieces of his soul! He needed those! They were his! Gods, they were his.... The slightest change in mental state, the slightest shift in intent. He wouldn't be able to withstand it, the only reason he was still alive was because he was ripped apart by a machine. There was no harmful intent involved, it was just a machine doing what it was designed to do! It wasn't the machine's fault, he'd made a mistake, done something wrong. But if this mage decided to... _Oh gods..._ the soul shards were twitching and pulsing, buzzing in their hand. They could see how afraid he was, he couldn't hide it, couldn't conceal the horror in his soul. If he upset them without trying to...

There was a shift in their intent, something that happened so quickly he couldn't hope to read it in his panic stricken state. Their magic flared, an unbearable light and pressure assaulted his senses. There was a horrific cracking sound, Gaster fell to his knees, his mind temporarily emptied of all thought and reason. Burning energy washed over what was left of his soul, piercing the core of his being in a manner that stole his breath from him. And then he was fighting to reclaim some semblance of sanity, struggling against the horror that chased his every breath.

_No... no no no...._ There was no pain... there was no pain? Why was there no pain? A hand on his shoulder, he flinched, a horrible stuttering sensation pulling at the edges of his senses as every broken part of him vibrated with terror. They didn't attack, they weren't going to finish him off? What were they waiting for? He looked up, a violent pulse of recognition passing through him an instant later, every part of him drawn to what they now held. The four shards were now one, thrumming and vibrating with life, throbbing in rhythm with the rest of his broken pieces. And he could feel it, so close it was as if the shard was already cradled safely behind his ribs.

The mage spoke, soft and gentle in a way he never would have imagined possible from one of their kind. "I believe, this belongs to you." This... couldn't be real. Even if they recognized him for what he was, no mage would simply surrender the soul of a paragon. What was their game? Why take the risk? It wasn't enough, the fragment they held was merely a piece and he was missing so much... all that he was, scattered to the winds. It didn't matter, he was already reaching towards it with his magic, some primal instinct demanding him to reclaim what was lost.

And when he felt their magic release him, he scrambled backwards, blind with panic... Disbelief washing over him the moment he realized that, _no,_ they _weren't_ chasing him. He was boxed into a corner now, it didn't matter, the room was small and he didn't have the strength to fight back. Escape wasn't an option, he was already trapped and yet... they made no move to press their advantage. The shard they'd returned to him was back where it belonged before he rightly knew it, pulsing warmly beside the rest. It suffused his entire being with a magic that was foreign and different, something that wasn't his. But... the shard was his, he knew it, why was the magic different? There was no pain... he was still missing pieces, it should have hurt... why was there no pain?

Over time the fear began to leave him. The mage was still there... they hadn't moved, hadn't called on their magic again.... _Why?_ He could feel their eyes on him, even if he couldn't make out anything about them past that blinding glow of theirs. The energy sparking away from their soul was overwhelming, yet there was almost no emotion in it, muffled feelings that he couldn't make sense of. They must have been shielding themself somehow, blocking him from sensing emotion and intent. That was never a good thing where mages were concerned. He felt it more than saw it, the moment they moved, tensing quickly in response to the powerful creature finally rising from the ground. Had they been sitting? Kneeling? Stars... they suddenly seemed much bigger, much more intimidating.

But... there was still no change in the air... no hostile intent... They could have been masking it, he tried to sense as much but there wasn't anything that might have given them away. For the longest time, they simply stood there, watching him keenly. Were they expecting something from him? They moved and it took every ounce of self control he had, not to flinch away. There was something watchful and patient in the energy they were exuding, they took a step and waited. When he showed no signs of retreating or preparing an attack, they took another and another.

The entire process could have only taken a few minutes or they could have been watching him for an hour. He didn't know and he wasn't inclined to care. Just as he was starting to get _very_ uncomfortable, they finally stopped their slow creeping approach. The mage dropped down, perhaps into a crouch, he couldn't tell, couldn't see. Then they were speaking again, voice soft and low, chased with echoes of magic that helped lessen the lingering tenseness all through him. Gaster wanted to resist it, wanted to shove it off and fight back, but the magic suffusing the shard they'd returned to him made that difficult. And... there was a comfort to it that pulled at him, so hard to ignore after being lost in darkness, cold and agony for so long. "I can get you out of here, but it will involve interacting directly with your soul. Do I have your consent?"

What they asked for was unthinkable! No monster would willingly grant a mage access to the very core of their being. Why were they asking in the first place? They could have easily overpowered him, especially in his current state. Something they said finally hit him and derailed his train of thought. Where _was_ this place exactly? _The void,_ some distant corner of his mind helpfully supplied. The place between time and space, an extra plainer realm where nothing was meant to exist, as far as he knew.

That theory was clearly incorrect if he was there. This mage and the strange grey room around them were equally out of place. _How?_ The portal, _obviously._ It went haywire and then... _Sans._ It felt like a kick in the ribs. How had he forgotten? Stars, how long had he been there? He had to get back, he had to.... Something inside of him told Gaster there was no way out, no escape. But... the mage in front of him... He... he couldn't just stay there... Stars knew how long his sons had been alone! They had Grillby... could Grillby keep up with the needs of two young skeletons on top of his business? No, he would do his best but it could never be enough and he'd already been gone too long, hadn't he?

If he refused, would he ever get another chance? They could be lying. He focused what was left of his magic, doing his best to sift through the muted feelings coming from the mage, trying to see past the blinding light that surrounded them. There was nothing, nothing malicious or cruel, nothing that would suggest they meant any ill will. An itch of sorts lingered in the air and after a few solid minutes of staring and struggling to figure it out, Gaster recognized it as pain. They were injured and hiding it poorly now that he was able to recognize the presence of pain suppressing magic, a magic that was being cast over him as well.

Did they realize what they were doing? Was it intentional? Something inside of him said that, _yes,_ it was _intentional._ The absence of pain wasn't a coincidence or an accident, they were keeping him from feeling the shattered condition of his soul. That wasn't a _cheap_ magic, not weak or easily called upon. And in an instant, he surprised himself with how willing he was to trust them. But when he pulled his broken soul free of his rib cage, realizing for the first time how little was left of it, he saw the magic hovering around the mage dim suddenly.

There was hardly any more than half of him left. There was no hope of salvation, not even a human mage could... A sudden grip on his arm caused his thoughts to scatter like roaches. It wasn't painful exactly, though it was definitely shocking and unsettling. It wasn't flesh. It felt like chitin, an exoskeleton? They weren't human? "It only looks bad." Their voice startled him a bit, firm and resolute, unrelenting. And Gaster tried again to see beyond their magic, desperate to find something, anything that might help explain....

A sudden jolt passed through his entire being and the magic drained from his face. He'd been so distracted, he hadn't even realized they were moving until they had his soul cradled up to their own chest. What were they doing? Why were they holding it like that? What did they plan on... Burning magic washed over him, blinding light assaulted his senses yet again. Everything went dark.

A familiar feeling of exhaustion dogged at him, a now uncomfortable warmth clinging to his bones. Everything felt too warm, too cold. Everything was too loud, too bright. Everything hurt, every point of contact like sandpaper grinding away at him. He drifted in and out of awareness, too tired to care, in too much pain to bother staying awake. It was too much work, _stars,_ it was unbearable. Gaster didn't know how long he spent, fading in and out, exhausted and in pain. He didn't know how long he spent reeling from every sound, every flicker of light.

There was an unbearable din somewhere nearby, high pitched and undulating, repeating over and over like a broken record... stuttering as if two or more parts of a conversation. There was a rasping scrape, thundering in his skull with a tearing, rustling sound that made him want to dig his phalanges into his scars if only to make it stop. Moving at all hurt horribly, there was something covering him, heavy and coarse, stars, dusting would have been preferable! Then a touch on his forehead, cold, so very cold, the pain ebbed and he drifted again.

For the first time, Gaster woke without pain, still exhausted and weak but for the first time since the accident, nothing hurt. He blinked up at a plain wooden ceiling, his wisps cutting through the darkness around him without any difficulty. It wasn't the absolute nothingness of the void, nothing could ever be _that_ dark. No, there was light leaking in through a crack in the curtains off to the side of him, a dusting of pale white like the moon. Something dim flickered beyond a closed door just beyond the beam of light, a warm orange and yellow that reminded him of firelight.

Then, the door opened and a figure dressed from head to toe in white paced into view. They were carrying a tray with a single candle burning softly atop it, a steaming bowl of some kind placed in the center of it. They didn't smile at him, didn't offer him any warmth or encouragement. When they spoke it was with a bland entonement that left no room for emotion, no illusion of care.

**"Welcome back to the land of the living."**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the bright side, Sans hasn't had nightmares of the first anomaly in a long time. : )  
> At least... until the festival of night...  
> I'm just... gonna stop talking now... : /


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaster makes an unwelcome discovery.  
> Animus doesn't react all that well.  
> They sit down and have a conversation like two perfectly stable individuals.... or not...  
> Skeledad makes our transported character angry without meaning to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Undertale owned by Toby Fox

There was no light or warmth in their eyes but at the very least there was no aggression or hostility either. The human only paused at the door for a brief moment to sweep their gaze over him and continued on indifferently, showing as much interest in him as he imagined they might an insect. There was something almost unnatural about them, perhaps he was merely seeing things or it was the moonlight reflecting off of their clothes. It almost looked like they were leaving a trail of some kind behind them as they moved, hazy and transparent. It wasn't quiet an afterimage, but it wasn't far from it. It wasn't enough to distract him from the way they were walking.

Every step seemed measured, stiff, were they hurt? Gaster tried moving, there was no strength in his body. The heavy quilt covering him might as well have been weighted stone. It didn't mater that the mattress underneath him was firm enough it felt like several layers of cloth draped over a wooden plank, it might as well have been a bean bag chair for all the good it did him. The human's expression was empty, devoid of anything that even resembled personality or... life really. It was wrong. They were speaking, a low monotone as empty as the rest of them, he wasn't really paying attention. "You are going to be weak for a while yet." He didn't know why he did it, instinct maybe? A force of habit developed after watching over countless souls who wouldn't admit to being injured?

It didn't matter, justification could be argued over later. Or, that's what he would have been thinking, if not for the results of his investigation. Their stats... _Oh gods..._ They had a level of violence above twenty, more HP than he'd ever seen in a human before, their defensive and offensive attributes were insane and against all reason, their execution points were near non existent. It didn't look like they'd killed more than a few people over the course of their entire life! Maybe only _one_ depending on how dangerous their opponent was. But above all of that, what drew his attention most, was what he saw sitting in the center of their chest.

It wasn't a human soul. Human souls were shaped like cartoonish, anatomically incorrect hearts. This one was circular, a solid orb of shimmering gold. It wasn't even the right color for a human soul! And.. the state it was in... _Stars,_ it might have been a little hypocritical to wonder how on earth they were still alive but he couldn't help it. The light it gave off was minimal, dim in a way that made his instincts as a doctor scream with urgency. There was so much damage, so many cracks, some of them even appeared deep enough that it should have been splitting into fragments. What was even holding them together in the first place?

A sudden loud clang broke his concentration and he could finally sense something from them. Fury and indignance were rippling through the air, the light almost seemed to retreat from them. They were glaring at him, mask of indifference abandoned as something deadly and unforgiving sparked in their dark eyes. The noise was whatever tray they'd been carrying, slammed none too gently into a nightstand he hadn't noticed. The candle flickered unsteadily, they'd probably spilled some of what ever was in the bowl, they didn't appear to care. A certain, dangerous coldness hissed free of them, clinging to their every word while they continued to leer at him with that same murderous look in their eyes. "Do not, **_ever,_ **do that again."

If looks could kill... Gaster could only nod uncertainly, trying not to show just how startled he was by his recent discovery and the resulting hostilities. They didn't _look_ like they were about to fall over dead and there was certainly magic in their words, clinging to them coldly and dangerously. The energy sparking away from them was stronger than he would have expected considering the condition of their soul... For several moments, they continued to glare at him, eyes narrowing just a fraction more. Then, something seemed to shift in them. The hostile intent in the air grew less pronounced, less targeted. They turned back towards the nightstand, exhaling heavily and their mask of indifference was back. Whatever was left of their anger bled away, leaving only a general haze of bitterness and exhaustion.

Perhaps they were tired or... wait, was that a centering technique? Then, they were talking again as they shifted about the contents of the tray, moving the candle to the nightstand and staring down at what ever else might occupy it. He could only see half of their face from where he was lying, but they looked... almost thoughtful, in a blank, emotionless sort of way. "I... apologize. That was uncalled for. My temperament is a bit more... insensitive, when I am in pain. I do not know the specifics of your culture as far as the significance of souls is concerned. However, that was a gross breach of conduct on par with sexual assault. Were you of my own species, I would have been within my rights to throttle you. Injured or not."

For several seconds, all he could do was blink at them, stunned. It was like he heard them but his mind couldn't process what they were saying. Then, it was right back in working order again and he wished he could have remained clueless for a little longer. Gaster felt his zygomatic bones flush with magic, horror blanketing his mind. He was mortified, complex thought escaped him, swept away in a sudden wash of disquiet that left him reeling. Paralysis... he had no idea how to react... At least it wasn't like he was hiding anything so they could probably gather that he hadn't been... _Okay!_ Their reaction made a lot of sense from _that_ perspective. He hadn't asked permission to review their stats and out of context, the intrusion was probably a _very_ unpleasant surprise.

An instant later, his thoughts were being ripped off course as the... he couldn't call them a human anymore.... as _their_ shadow swept over him. They were suddenly much closer than he liked and Gaster jolted slightly when they slipped an arm under his back to prop him upright. Something on their chest caught his attention, embroidered in gold across a plain of white. A crest, two feathered wings circled protectively around a golden orb, a delicate circlet hovering above it. He... knew that crest... Memories of his first meeting with Grillby tugged at his thoughts, a pair of gleaming fastenings for a cloak black as midnight.

Then he was being wrenched back to the present again as the stranger craned over him with the bowl in their free hand. And they were speaking again, the monotone nature of their voice faltering, something almost gentle in their expression. "It might only be broth but you should probably have something more than just raw magic to help sustain you. If I made it too strong, let me know and I will correct the issue." It wasn't the same, it was dulled, almost awkward, almost confused. But there was something protective in the air about them, something that edged on just the right side of caring.

They were trying... It hit him like a kick to the ribs. They were so broken and battered that they probably didn't even remember what it was like to care about someone else. And they were still trying.... why? And he was speaking before he could think to stop himself, before he could register the fact that his magic hadn't manifested to aid in translation... before he could consider the repercussions of such a thing. _'Why? Why did you save me? Why are you still trying to help me? What do you have to gain from any of this?'_

They paused, tilting their head at his question, their expression deadening again with only the slightest hints of thoughtfulness or consideration edging it. A silence fell over the two of them, uncomfortable. They looked... unnaturally still. And finally they answered him, something impassive and uncaring in their eyes. "Your survival directly influences my own. It is a matter of mutually assured destruction. I have no desire to find myself vaporized by your eldest son should I leave you early in his care and your health abruptly decline."

He accepted their answer for now, the broth was too strong.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Getting Gaster back home in one piece was harder than they would have liked. They were already exhausted and the few shadows they'd seen in this world dogged them like starving scavengers. The fact that half of their soul was currently humming along merrily inside of the skeleton they were carrying didn't help. A magic kin didn't have the sort of defensive skills or capabilities to fight off a shadow. In fact, the very nature of a shadow could lead to a very swift and unpleasant end for a magic kin.

The nature of a shadow was to corrupt and consume, it would twist every happy memory, warp every positive emotion, destroy all semblance of hope. A single touch would be fatal if left untreated. They kept him close, their sand at the ready to defend the both of them if needed. The sand itself wouldn't have been much of a deterrent, shadows were incorporeal, at least the last Animus checked. But if they let their magic spark along the magnetite crystals, it worked like the sting of an electric eel. Dangerous, enough to keep them at bay if ever the wretched things got too close, enough to make the creatures cautious and wary. Shadows were patient, they would wait, however long it took. It was just fortunate there was still a fair bit of magic left in their inventory, enough to get them back, even tailed by shadows.

Caring for Gaster afterwards proved more complicated than they'd expected. The void had left him suffering from the aftereffects of extended sensory deprivation. Every sound seemed to cause him incredible amounts of pain, every flicker of light, every touch. They did what they could, tempering his exposure with magic and limiting the amount of stimuli that reached him. It was a lengthy process, exhausting, demanding, they didn't know how long it took. Too long if the fact that Lilly had called to check in on them was any indicator, though they assuaged her concerns by telling her that they'd _caught_ something and would need time to recover. It wasn't a lie, not exactly, just a play on words without any context... She hadn't asked any further questions, though Animus got the sense that she didn't believe them completely.

It didn't matter, what mattered was making sure that Gaster recovered and recovered well. Still, the slow reintroduction of light, sound and sensation couldn't be rushed, doing so would compromise his health. So despite the extensive magic use and the strain of their own wounds, which wouldn't heal any faster than a normal human's while they were short on magic and rest... They kept at it, grateful for the barriers and wards around their territory. No shadows could enter their home, they didn't need to be with Gaster every hour of every day.

There was time for them to rest, time for them to clean their wounds properly. Time for them to eat and most importantly, time for them to scrub off the touch of the void and burn the clothes they'd been wearing when they entered it. The skeleton in their care received the same treatment the moment they got back. Animus had drawn a bath, filled it with as much purifying magic as they could and cleaned him as best they could. They'd taken note of what he'd been wearing and then burned the garments, replacing them to the best of their ability. Was it insensitive? Maybe. Was it a breech of privacy? Most definitely. Did they overstep in doing so? Perhaps. Did they want void energies in their house? _**Hell no!** _

With any luck, he wouldn't even notice. They'd recreated what he'd been wearing, using the old to figure out the pattern and measurements for the new. True, they could have taken measurements while Gaster was unconscious, but that would have been even worse. He would probably feel violated and betrayed enough by the non consensual bath time. Having his measurements taken when he lacked the ability or means to say no? It would be lucky if they got away with _just_ a verbal lashing...

In the end, that was _mostly_ why they managed to calm down so quickly when they noticed him staring at their soul. Aside from the general screaming question of _why_ was he able to see past their wards, the fact that he'd actually seen how ugly they were on the inside was a horrifying revelation. Their LV alone would have been more than enough to get Sans to attack them on sight, never mind the rest. Most magic kin would have considered them a very real threat and while they had the means to cause great harm should they ever wish to.... Animus would rather avoid conflict where ever possible.

Their nature as a guardian made them more of a pacifist than they liked to admit. Violence was only to be used in self defense or in the defense of others. Killing was a last resort, only to be used when failure to act would result in civilian casualties. But Gaster wouldn't know about the limitations of their species, all he would have seen was a wounded soul. And with a wounded soul came certain vulnerabilities. He was intelligent, he was a doctor... he knew they were compromised. He probably didn't know about their elemental vulnerability to darkness, but a wounded soul itself was a horrible weakness... one he would know how to exploit.

They would have to convince him that they weren't a threat, that they meant him no ill will... the headache hadn't gone away, it was getting worse again. It was all they could do to maintain an outward calm, fabricating emotions was out of the question. At least, until they'd healed and recovered from spending so much magic and soul energy on keeping him alive. Their soul was already regenerating, it wouldn't take them much longer to be back at full strength... or... their equivalent of full strength. They hadn't checked on the state of Gaster's soul since they slipped it back inside of his chest, protected by half of their own. Checking wouldn't be all that difficult, they wouldn't even have to pull it out to do so. They weren't that much of a hypocrite, regardless of medical necessity.

Another complication was diet. He didn't appear to be well enough to handle their cooking as it normally was. They had to test several different concentrations of magic before they found something he could eat without difficulty. At least he didn't complain about anything... They could still feel his gaze boring into them as they righted the tray they'd brought with them. It was irritatingly clear that he wanted to ask more questions and knowing Gaster, he'd find answers on his own if they didn't humor him. So, rather than risking the overly curious scientist injuring himself by getting out of bed, they pulled up a chair and sat down, facing him and doing their best not to frown or leer at him. "Alright, I can sense that you want to ask me something and I am _not_ naive enough to believe you will loose interest. You might as well get it over with already, depending on the question I might even answer."

It was... hard to take him seriously when he was so weak he couldn't even sit up on his own just yet. Even still, those wisps of his were sharp and focused. **_Dangerous_** , said some instinctual part of them still unsettled by his ability to see through their wards. For the longest time, he simply lie there, staring at them thoughtfully and critically, as if trying to decide where he wanted to start. Eventually, he finally spoke and some of their anxiety died away a bit with his first topic of choice. _'You are not human.'_ It was more of a statement than a question, though they answered it regardless, in part grateful for the opportunity to use a one word answer. They didn't have to give him a lengthy explanation, in truth they didn't even have to answer him at all. But given his background, being honest and transparent with Gaster from day one was the best possible course of action. "No."

It was clear that he was looking for a more in depth explanation, though they refrained from giving him anything more. Of course, his second question was a little more difficult to steer around delicately. _'And your species?'_ For an instant, they almost answered him without pausing to consider how much information they were willing to part with. Something in their mind shifted, like a new lens was being slid into place in front of their eyes. They'd let down their guard, why? Ah, it was the fragment of their soul shielding him. Feeling magic so alike their own from another living creature was effecting their mental state. For just a moment, they'd started viewing him as one of their own. That wouldn't do, he might have been under their protection but he wasn't one of their kind.

Of course, fighting their instincts was harder than they would have liked. It made them second guess their every word, struggle to analyze every bit of information they even considered giving away. It was like pulling teeth. After a few minutes of quiet consideration, they managed to speak, trying to ignore the agitated way their soul was buzzing inside of them. It was like they were caught between self preservation and their desire to safeguard, protect. They'd never encountered such a contradiction in their nature before. He wasn't a threat, not at the moment. **_He_ **was under **_their_ **protection, **_he_** was under **_their_ **protection. They repeated that particular thought a few times to calm themself down, feeling a little more grounded afterward.

Then, they were speaking, only half paying attention to what they were saying. "I am an extra plainer being in possession of a physical body as the result of a complex life cycle that... While I am certain you are intelligent enough to comprehend, I do not feel comfortable explaining in detail as it may pose a risk to myself and others of my kind." That seemed to give him pause and a little quieter, he asked. _'There are more like you?'_ This question they had no issue answering, it wasn't like the information was harmful in any way.

The chances of one of their own species being in this world in particular were about as good as being sucked into a trans dimensional gateway on the way to the bathroom. The sheer innocent simplicity kept them from needing to ground themself again, that was good. As long as he stuck to questions that weren't harmful, they would have an easier time with this. "To the best of my knowledge, not in this world." Gaster frowned, visibly, heavily, something old and weary in his wisps.

It was a little disturbing that they were learning to read expressions on skeletons so quickly. Then again, the head of the skeleton family was a little more expressive than his two sons. Sans was stuck with a permanent grin and Papyrus' face looked a lot more like a bare skull, even if both of their faces were somewhat malleable. Comparing fixed expression that could shift around and change to Gaster's freely moving almost mask like face wasn't a fair judgement. If they hadn't already known that it was still bone, they might have mistaken it for flesh and blood, save the eye sockets...

Of course, the eye sockets moved around like eyes as well, shifting and changing, narrowing or widening as needed. Even the damaged one moved, even if it seemed to be stuck in a permanent state of droopiness. They wondered if he could open it all the way or if it was forever doomed to remain that way. Then, they were blinking to themself at the sound of the skeleton's voice, trying to avoid showing that they hadn't exactly been paying all that much attention to their conversation anymore. _'Why?'_

No good, they didn't have any context. Feeling a little embarrassed, they cleared their throat and sat up a little straighter, convinced he'd realize that they'd been off in their own little world for a bit. "You will need to be more specific, I am not a mind reader." Gaster's frown deepened and for a moment, it looked as if he wasn't going to elaborate. Perhaps for the best, there were plenty of _whys_ that they didn't want to answer for. But after several long minutes of silence, he finally seemed to work up the nerve to repeat his question. _'Why are there no others?'_

Ah... It looked like he really didn't want to ask this question, like he really didn't want to hear the answer. It wasn't exactly all that hard to guess what he was thinking, not like he was wrong in his assumptions either. But since he'd asked... "Likely something to do with mass genocide spanning entire millennia. Strange as it might seem, a race and culture has trouble surviving when its people are being hunted like vermin." Oh wow... they didn't know a skeleton could go pale but there it was. Perhaps they'd been too blunt? To cavalier? He went from a nice parchment color of off white to something closer to gray and his wisps looked a lot dimmer.

The look he was giving them made something in their soul twist unpleasantly. Perhaps this little game of twenty questions could be put on hold for now. They didn't give him the chance to ask any further questions. Instead, they stood up and grabbed their little tray, turning back towards the door. Something in their voice came off a little too casual, almost chipper... That didn't seem right... Oh well, not like they were going to convince him that they were a perfectly balanced individual anyway. "Well, I think that is enough of that. Do try to avoid any particularly unsettling thoughts for now. Strong emotions are bad for a wounded soul."

They felt his stare boring into them long after they'd closed the door behind them but they didn't scold him for it this time. It was only their stats he was looking at and while uncomfortable, he hadn't made the mistake of checking their soul again. Of course, the emotions they were sensing from their spare room were another matter entirely. White hot rage welled up from somewhere inside of them as they made their way to the kitchen, burning in their soul like an angry coal. Sympathy they could take, compassion they could ignore. The bowl shattered in their grasp when they tried putting it in the sink and they stared down at the shards as if personally offended by their existence.

Gaster ** _pitied_ **them.... it **_wasn't_** unfounded... and they **_hated_** that the most.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Animus read it wrong, Gaster wasn't pitying them, not really.  
> The emotions they were sensing were actually closer to empathy, they just couldn't recognize it properly.  
> And no, their anger isn't directed exclusively towards Gaster.  
> As irritated and upset as they are to think that he is pitying them, the reasons for why he might feel that way are the main thing making them angry.  
> They know what he's been through, they saw what happened to him and his people, felt it from his point of view.  
> But most importantly, the parallels they draw between the destruction of his kind and the fate of their own are a great source of pain and anguish for them.  
> And like so many people who've gone through hell and been forced to deal with it on their own, they respond to it by getting angry, closing themself off.  
> Because that's safer than trusting someone who might betray you.  
> 


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Animus really spends too much time in their own head.  
> Gaster acts irresponsible while being responsible... somehow...  
> Our transported character fucks up on multiple fronts, gets angry and messes with skeledad's head to make themself feel better.  
> There's cake! But no one gets to eat it, yet.  
> Gaster is unsatisfied with the fact that he doesn't get to see his kids right away, Animus is unsympathetic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Undertale owned by Toby Fox

The following morning, Gaster asked Animus their name. It was a simple question, innocent and harmless, they still hadn't wanted to answer. If all went well, they wouldn't see him again after handing him off to his crazy kids... Okay, maybe that one was a little harsh. Sans had PTSD, abandonment issues and anxiety, he wasn't crazy so much as justifiably paranoid. That was something they could at least appreciate on an intellectual level, even if it didn't make them feel any better. Paranoia was something they were familiar with, intimately.

Having a damaged soul brought with it a slew of mental and emotional problems. Not the least of which was a reoccurring sense of imminent danger that never really went away. Fear and anxiety were commonplace, paranoia a natural consequence. They could understand his thought process from experience and the psychological profile they'd built on Sans. It upset them, on multiple levels that they'd fallen into the habit of psychoanalyzing the people around them. Though, it wasn't something they could just stop doing.

At some point, Gaster seemed to gather that they weren't the talkative type. If nothing else, he hadn't noticed that their mannerisms had changed at all from the night they'd rescued him. It was another irritating habit of theirs to slip into different roles for different situations, adapting changing personas and altered speech patterns that matched up with the people around them. It was a disarming tactic, people were less defensive around others when they could find things in common with one another. They couldn't always help it, though they managed to keep to a strict character profile while they were attending patrons at the Elderbrew or presenting themself thusly. Of course, it didn't help the doctor feel any more comfortable around them.

A decent night's sleep had given them the energy to bother with fabricated emotions and somehow, seeing them smile and emote like a normal person had thrown him off. Gaster had withdrawn immediately, cautious and unsettled. How had they managed to scare him by acting normal? It didn't make any sense! Or, maybe it did. Thinking logically, it was an incredible change from the way they were talking and acting the previous night. Damnit, if only they'd bothered thinking about it ahead of time. No point agonizing over it now, they could get frustrated all they liked later. If nothing else, his questions about their species had mercifully taken a hike for the time being. Of course, conversation had pretty much died off all together after they'd messed up and adopted a persona in front of him.

That was bad, even if it didn't seem as though he was over reacting to the knowledge that they weren't all that they appeared to be. Come to think of it, he was handling the information rather well, all things considered. Still, the fact that his natural curiosity was absent didn't inspire confidence. They would have to bring it up over lunch or dinner, if they'd missed something... No, he would be showing signs of obvious strain or distress if his condition was worsening. Animus paced silently in the kitchen, taking time off from looking after Gaster to organize their thoughts.

So it was just a matter of trust after all. His trust in them was tenuous at best, reasonably so given their appearance if nothing else. After surviving the war, seeing a human face was likely unwelcome, even if he'd had time to come to terms with everything he'd lived through. Perhaps that was the largest problem, it might benefit his recovery if they concealed their more human traits somehow. Inconvenient but not impossible, they had some experience with illusion magic. They were no Harry Houdini or James Cameron, but they could blur their features, make themself out to be a hazy, indistinct figure instead. It wasn't ideal, but it was better than seeing a human face.

That was another thing they could appreciate on an intellectual level. After they'd started recovering their memories, looking in the mirror was an irritation, an insult. Their face, a human face... How they longed for the power of shape shifting, to mold their appearance in a manner that better suited their true nature. Alas, such magics were long lost, cast into oblivion amidst the annals of time. Perhaps someday they would recover it, but for now it remained spitefully out of reach. A sound tore their thoughts off course and they paused for several seconds, listening. At first they didn't hear anything, but they could sense something. Magic and emotion, exhaustion, stubbornness, the feeling of being worn thin and ragged. Then they heard it, a thin scrape against hardwood. Of all the insufferable... What in the name of the seven sisters was he doing out of bed! He'd been too weak to move just last night! His bones were even still soft after resolidifying!

Irritated and angry, Animus broke from their pacing, marching into the sitting room to see him at the top of the stairs. How he'd gotten there without collapsing and making an unholy racket, they had no idea. As it stood, he looked like he'd just finished a marathon, wilted against the railing as he was. If they hadn't known better, they would have thought that he was injured. But no, it was just that the stupid, stubborn fool was pushing himself too far for absolutely no good reason! At least he had the decency to look abashed by the fact that he'd been caught. He tried taking another step and nearly collapsed. If they hadn't been there to catch him, he might have gone down the stairs. They didn't know when they'd called on their sand to aid them, using it was becoming a little too natural. That would be problematic in the future, even if it had given them the added speed to reach him before he'd fallen.

Of course, the presence of their sand seemed to confuse the scientist as they used it to ferry him down towards them. Perhaps he didn't recognize it for what it was, they had added a bit of illusionary magic in to warp light away from it. Regardless, they at least offered him the dignity of setting him down on his own two feet, even if they had to offer their shoulder for him to lean on. There was a bit of bite to their voice when they addressed him, attributed to their anger, no doubt. "You should be resting." They weren't expecting his response. Gaster met their gaze evenly, something a little too discerning in the lights of his eyes. It felt like they were under a microscope, it was unnerving. Then he was speaking, something quiet and heavy in his tone of voice. _'What about you?'_

That... that was a fair question... And it was also none of his damn business! If they hadn't been angry before, now they were furious. Of course, getting angry wouldn't exactly help anything and it wasn't like they could just leave him on the sofa and go back to their pacing. Knowing Gaster, he'd just get back up again once he'd caught his breath and chase after them, nagging at them until they either caved to pointless conversation or agreed to take a break. Neither option was particularly attractive and if he wasn't going to behave otherwise... they'd just have to take him into the kitchen with them and suffer his presence. Bitter and angry, radiating heat in a manner that at least seemed to break some of the good doctor's momentum, they started dragging him with them.

The added hiss in their voice when they reached the kitchen wasn't something they could have banished for the life of them, though they did manage to avoid being too rough with him when they set him up with a chair. "I have survived this long just fine on my own without being coddled. You should be focusing on yourself." Then they were sweeping into motion, lighting a fire and preparing the oven while they set out ingredients for a pot pie. It would take time to prepare and it was heavier than anything else they'd given Gaster. But his appetite had improved overnight, as long as they were careful about how much magic they added, he should be able to stomach it. They paused in the middle of cutting up chicken breasts when they heard him speak again. There was something quiet and tired in his voice, lilting weakly towards humor. Something about it made their soul twist unpleasantly, that same bitter feeling of being pitied welling up inside of them. _'At least you stopped forcing yourself to smile.'_

After they registered what he'd said, they weren't exactly sure what happened really. It was like their mind flat lined for several seconds before kicking back up again into working order. Of course he would have realized... they hadn't exactly been subtle and the change hadn't been organic or natural. Animus resumed their work in silence, their progress slowed as they parsed through the emotion and intent in the air. Nothing hostile or overtly threatening, though there did seem to be a hint of challenge there. Taking into account his response to their chastisement, it made sense. He was... concerned for them... they didn't know how to feel about that. Except maybe offended because they were a fully grown adult who'd gone through adolescence more than a thousand times and knew how to take care of themself.

Lifespans were just funny that way for their species, even if they didn't remember most of it. But that was just it, wasn't it? As far as he knew, they were, what? _Twenty five?_ If that? Still very young by human terms and easily hundreds of times his junior. Yes, by that logic, they shouldn't be angry with him. He saw someone who was young, inexperienced, fragile. They hated it, but it made sense. With a bitter huff, they decided not to hold it against him and muttered quietly as they deposited the freshly chopped meat in a deep pot. "It was my attempt at making you feel more comfortable and welcomed. I now realize that I acted in error, you are far too intelligent to be disarmed so easily."

That comment seemed to grant them a few minutes of merciful silence, even if they could feel him staring at their back. He was watching, likely inspecting them for any obvious signs of injury. They didn't know how much he'd been able to glean from their brief conversation the night before, but they had noticed that he seemed a little too interested in their injured side. Gaster was paying more attention to the way they held themself than they would have liked, even if their wounds were healing quite well all things considered. There was a slim chance that it was just his natural instincts as a doctor influencing him... scratch that, it was very likely to be his instincts as a doctor. But the possibility that he was searching for weaknesses still lingered. There was an itch in the back of their mind, a twitch that shivered up their spine. They didn't like being watched, it made them feel cornered, hunted. Perhaps they'd spent too much time alone with only shadows as company. True, they had the Elderbrew, but none of their patrons truly knew or understood them.

Meat prepped, they set it on the stove and slapped a lid on it, setting up the vegetables only to be interrupted by the skeleton's unwelcome commentary. _'Why even bother? If your only interest is to ensure my survival, why would you take the time and energy to try making me more comfortable?'_ Animus swore they felt a vein throbbing in their temple, there was certainly something resembling a twitch over their left eye now. The headache hadn't gone away with time and was in fact only getting worse the more time they spent around Gaster. Perhaps he was simply insufferable, they didn't bother dwelling on it. Instead, they simply spoke to him curtly, starting work on the carrots and setting aside a bowl for them. "As I said, I acted in error. It will not happen again."

They could feel his disapproval radiating off of him but simply gritted their teeth and ignored it. Nothing to be done but humor him, explaining their true age would be complicated and they didn't want to open that can of worms any time soon. If he would just sit quietly and leave them be, they could finish up without any of this unpleasantness. But of course, the great Dr. W.D. _Gaster_ would never deign to make their life any easier! He was speaking again already by the time they'd finished with the carrots and gone back to check on the meat. _'How long have you been living here alone?'_

That was the last straw, forget being delicate or polite, he was just asking for it now. Animus no longer even attempted to hide their irritation, allowing the emotion to sweep away from them in its full glory. The good doctor's reaction would have been amusing, if they weren't so angry. He'd tensed immediately, they could feel it in the air, sense it in his magic even if they weren't looking at him directly. And the wariness they got from him when they hissed out their answer was almost worth the sudden violent increase in their headache. Ah, emotion seemed to worsen it, that was one mystery solved. "That is none of your damn business!" At last, conversation seemed to peter out and they were left to their own devices.

The pie was baking the in the oven by the time Gaster tried picking up their conversation again. _'Considering the fact that I very much doubt anyone else knows of my presence here. Your health is something I have every right to be concerned for.'_ Stars damnit, he was making sense and being so fucking reasonable about it too, they hated it. Deep breaths, he was an intellectual who'd had over a thousand years to hone his mind. It only made sense that he was being logical, retaining his calm and acting in a collected manner. That didn't make it any less irritating that he wouldn't just let it die! They needed something to do with their hands. Animus immediately grabbed one of their cookbooks and turned to one of the more complicated recipes.

Double layer chocolate chip brownie cake, that would do it, even if they probably wouldn't have a use for the finished product. Getting the ingredients out and organizing everything helped them recenter themself and after a few deep breaths, they weren't feeling quite as murderous anymore. Strong emotions were bad for an injured soul, they shouldn't have allowed themself to get so agitated. It was a wonder they hadn't aggravated the cracks in their own, then again, the headache might have masked any lesser strains. No matter, they should have been focusing on Gaster instead of themself in the first place. So they started talking while they mechanically followed the instructions on the page, hardly paying attention to what they were doing.

It was almost reflex by now, they didn't really need the recipe. As long as they followed all the steps, it would work out. "I suppose you do have a point there. The entire territory is surrounded by a barrier that keeps intruders from accessing the house or the land surrounding it. But again, I can take care of myself. I have prepared supplements and transfusions for myself in the event that my soul requires the added support." They didn't bother mentioning that their soul always needed the added support, but they wouldn't have been surprised if Gaster managed to read between the lines. Judging from the way he fell silent for a while, he probably had. His next question didn't exactly make them feel any better about it either. But being unreasonable about it wouldn't make matters any better, at least he hadn't used it as an opportunity to focus on the barrier.

_'How much did you risk to save me?'_ Actually, taking a few seconds to think it over, this question was a lot less irritating than the others. Measuring out the chocolate chips, they took their time answering him, thinking over how much information they should give away. There wasn't anything inherently harmful about being direct and to the point, complete transparency might even be beneficial in this case. If he understood the risks they'd taken, he might even feel more indebted to them. They still didn't know the full weight of souls in the eyes of magic kin but they did know that most creatures couldn't survive even after loosing only a small piece. Decision made, they answered freely, mixing things together absentmindedly. "Nothing that I might have kept had I not taken action."

Perhaps the dramatic pause was a little too much, they could feel him getting frustrated as they levied batter into a pan nearby. It was a little entertaining waiting for him to loose patience with them. Not nearly enough to justify their earlier irritation, though they did feel somewhat liberated when they interrupted him just as he was about to speak. "I am certain you would find the process itself rather fascinating. My species can survive with an incomplete soul. As a matter of fact, we possess regenerative abilities powerful enough to mediate any loss we might incur, barring certain circumstances. Having said that, I parted with half of my soul to provide you with an organic form of life support. In theory, you should be healing even as we speak. The part of my soul shielding your own should be lending you my natural regeneration."

A smirk slowly curled across their lips in the deafening silence that followed. The feeling in the air was wonderful, shock, surprise, alarm. He obviously hadn't expected any of what they'd told him, though he seemed to be taking their warnings to heart. It was a little unfortunate that he was so skilled at mastering himself, it would have been more cathartic if the emotions they were sensing from him were more intense. Alas, it would have been bad for his health and they didn't want to try fixing added damage to his soul while he was already recovering from such a devastating accident. It was for the best that he had such an advanced mastery over his emotions, even if it lessened the already frail sense of amusement they gleaned from the exchange.

The pot pie was finished, they pulled it out of the oven and set it out to cool, checking the temperature and adjusting it with their magic so they could pop in the cake right away rather than waiting. On to the frosting! They were in the mood for cream cheese coffee flavored icing today, that sounded nice. The smell of the coffee grounds seemed to bring Gaster back down to earth, unfortunate, they would have preferred a bit more time to themself. His voice sounded weak when he managed to find it again, though they could at least appreciate the abrupt change of topic. _'You mentioned a barrier?'_

A few minutes passed in silence while they measured their ingredients and worked the cream cheese into a more agreeable state. The frosting would be worth it but it wasn't something that was easy to make on the spur of a moment. The cream cheese normally should have been left out to soften at room temperature, not that they really minded it. It added in a bit of complexity and meant they got to use their magic a bit which they appreciated. Lately, it wasn't quite so hard to call on anymore, they wondered why that was. But Animus had more important things to worry about, the fact that their magic was flowing more freely was a welcome change. "Yes, though not a physical one exactly. It acts more like a dampening field, distorting the senses and warping an intruder's sense of reality. If you tried entering or exiting through magical means, you might end up with a nasty fluctuation in your magic when it deflected your attempt and left you stranded somewhere else. But other than that, the only real physical effects it has are all limited to incorporeal beings. You can think of it like one of those strange places where people get lost and wander in circles for hours because their compasses stop working right."

There was a heavy silence, they could feel worry and something defensive radiating from Gaster. Had they offended him somehow? Perhaps, they knew a great deal about him but... _'Is that why I have been unable to sense either of my sons?'_ Ah, that explained it. With a world weary sigh, Animus nodded and set about preparing a plate for him. Of course he would latch on to _that_ out of everything else they'd discussed. His primary reason for trusting them was probably attributed to his parental instincts alone. If he'd had any other options, he probably would have taken his chances on his own.

A simple nod probably wasn't going to satisfy him either and they weren't in the mood for an extensive lecture about the barrier and its exact effects. So, rather than letting him get any more defensive or agitated, they simply carried on while they set his lunch down in front of him, not even bothering to observe him to make certain he ate. "The barrier works like a dampening field, as I said. No one can sense anything inside of it and you would have to be very powerful to sense anything from the inside. Your soul is in a fragile state right now, so I would be shocked if you could sense them. Rest assured, both Sans and Papyrus are well. Though, your eldest might be running himself a bit thin considering how many times I have detected him around the perimeter..." They trailed off for a few seconds, only vaguely aware of the mixed feelings radiating from the skeleton in their company. Anger, protectiveness, indignance, betrayal, it really was quite the display. "Perhaps he feels drawn here because of you..."

That seemed to derail his train of thought, they could feel him staring at them again as they plated up their own serving and took a place at the table across from him. Lunch wasn't really something they did when left to their own devices, normally they were too busy cooking and cleaning to bother with more than a brief snack to keep their energy levels up. On the really busy days they'd just take a supplement and persist on magic rather than calories... that was probably an unhealthy take on it. Not that they really cared.

Ah, the look on his face, he was trying to make sense of them again. Animus steepled their fingers together and regarded him with a calm stare, speaking bluntly though not unkindly. "Since you appear to be under the impression that I am unkind. I will take this time to inform you that I have no interest in your personal life. You may wish to see your sons and you have every right to feel that way. However, as I have mentioned, strong emotions are counterproductive at this stage. The last thing you need is a tearfelt reunion filled with excessive amounts of joy and regret. For the time being, you will remain here until your soul is more stable. The more compliant you are, the more quickly you will recover. As it stands, I estimate that you will be fully restored within the next five days. I trust that you can be patient for that long, at least?"

The look he was giving them was something alright. Cold and calculating, as if searching for any signs of deception, stubbornly picking apart every word, every movement. After a very long silence, he finally seemed to deflate, staring down at his plate bitterly. It was clear he didn't like it but he seemed willing to accept the situation as it was. That was good, it would be less trouble in the long run if he cooperated. Gaster showed no signs of being interested in the meal they'd set down in front of him and after a very long silence, he finally spoke, his voice quiet and soft. _'You said that they were well?'_

Animus carefully separated a section from their own serving of pot pie, staring at it with disinterest. This was the part where they were supposed to be supportive or encouraging, right? They didn't lie, not so long as they could avoid it and they typically avoided it like the plague. No sense discussing Sans' laundry list of mental and emotional scars right now. It wouldn't help Gaster's current situation at all anyway. Instead they simply spoke up dismissively and popped the first bite of their lunch into their mouth, trying to ignore the feeling of magic rushing towards their soul. It never was as much of a relief as it should have been... "Quite."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note that they did not specify what they were referring to when Gaster asked them to confirm that Sans and Papyrus were well.  
> They didn't say if it was physically, emotionally, or generally a true statement.  
> And Gaster didn't bother with a more in depth line of questioning.  
> He might be an attentive father, but he's not quite a helicopter parent, even if he would make a mother bear look tame when it comes to his kids.
> 
> Also, to those of you who may be curious.  
> When Animus cited 'the seven sisters', they were referring to an interesting constellation consisting of a grouping of seven stars clustered together.  
> In the night sky, you're more likely to notice it as an indistinct, faint glow unless you're looking at it directly. And if you're in a location where there's light pollution, you're unlikely to see it at all. But if you can see it, in my own personal experience at least, it looks almost like a cloud of glitterdust with each of the stars brightening or dimming seemingly at random, as if fighting for your attention.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grillby's not just an extra either? 0_0 Wow... layers...  
> Seems that something's going on in the background that both Gaster and Grillby know about.... huh...  
> Is there history here that Animus is unaware of? 0_o  
> Alphy's nerds out about the magnetite and accidentally freaks out Sans.  
> Sans over reacts to a bunch of things and realizes that something's off.  
> Paps makes an appearance... but how did he get there? And how did he know where to go?  
> Ending is sad fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Undertale owned by Toby Fox

When Sans first mentioned the Elderbrew, Grillby had to admit that he was only mildly curious. He'd seen human bars before and none of them were particularly interesting. The food was often substandard and the drinks they offered were either complete swill or carbon copies of one another. If one bar was offering something, chances were that every other bar knew how to make it or could manage a half decent imitation. There was no originality, no imagination, no passion. If this was what the competition looked like, it was no wonder the humans were making it so difficult for monster businesses to get started.

But Sans didn't normally show much interest in well... anything that wasn't science. The fact that he was talking about a human bar was unusual. The young skeleton rarely did anything out of the ordinary without adequate cause which meant that he had some reason to be seeking him out in particular. What that reason might have been, he had no idea and yet... he was still trying to convince him to come. When the young skeleton mentioned that it had a gimmick, he wasn't expecting all that much. He'd heard of bars that picked up all sorts of different themes to help drag in crowds. But in the end, that was what had him walking alongside him down a mess of shady as fuck alleyways following cobbled together wooden signs that looked in no way legitimate.

Granted, the theme of the bar was mid evil ages so in some ways the wooden signs made sense. If the owner wanted to set a mood, they were doing a good job of it. The passages were thin and winding and the brick walls surrounding them were almost oppressive, looming overhead like the sides some enormous labyrinth. He couldn't help but walk a little closer to Sans, watch their surroundings a little more carefully. There were many side passages and dark corners, each one sporting its own host of signs pointing along the very same paths.

Once or twice, he caught sight of an unmarked section but other than giving it a quick glance to make certain they were alone, he paid them no mind. Grillby was about ready to suggest they turn back when they finally, finally found it. It was like they'd fallen through time, as if the world had unraveled around them to reveal a picture perfect glimpse of the past. The sweet scent of wildflowers and wood smoke washed over him, carried by a soft breeze tinted with the faintest traces of mint. It felt like sunshine in the meadows he'd tread so long ago, like fields of shifting gold and verdant green. It felt like the peace of a midsummer's day, it felt like warmth, it felt like home.

The gardens were well loved and well tended, every petal and leaf minded with care. And the building itself? It was clearly built by hand, even at a distance he could see that much. It wasn't uniform in a way that made it look like it was slapped together by machinery, though the heavier stones were probably carried there with some sort of equipment. Each piece was fitted together in just the right ways, every scuff or mark out of place simply adding character, personality. Oh... oh now this was interesting! He was feeling rather good about the place even before they entered. And once they were inside? Stars, it was incredible.

Candle light? And chandeliers! They even had burners on the walls for added light! True, they were unlit but he had a feeling they would be burning brightly by the time dusk rolled around. Grillby could even feel the hearth, burning bright and strong, somewhere deeper in the tavern where it was hidden from view. And the tavern itself? That was just it! It was a real tavern! There were people laughing and toasting, tucking into hearty meals, good food that he could smell the moment he walked in. The only thing that seemed out of place was the clothing that the patrons were wearing.

Most everyone had brought a little piece of the modern world with them, breaking the nearly perfect illusion that surrounded them. If not for that one thing, Grillby might have thought that he'd gone back in time. It certainly felt like it, the entire place had a warm and welcoming air to it that he hadn't found anywhere since the dawn of the underground. True, his own place was a good substitute, but it was hard to admire when he was the one responsible for it. After only a few seconds, he was already revising his opinions of human owned establishments. At least... until the door to the kitchen swung open.

For an instant, it felt like his soul froze in his chest. Time no longer had any meaning or context. It was like an echo of the past, a ghost of a memory. Only, it didn't fade like any of the others. The moment passed and yet, they were still there... Wearing a centuries old crest he hadn't seen any other creature carry in so long that only dreams, bitter memories and old keepsakes stood as testament to the fact that it ever existed. A thin figure wreathed in white and gold, smiling gently, radiating care. Why was it here? He'd not seen that crest in over a hundred years, before the end of the war, before the dawn of the underground. There was no mention of it in any written history. He knew! He'd searched!

So how then, were they walking around with it stitched proudly over their tabard. A tabard that looked so hauntingly familiar, the centerpiece of a uniform that he'd only ever seen once before. The only difference was their face covering... Their voice... was it the same? Elementals as a rule had a rather unique sort of memory, he could remember centuries in the past as if it were only hours ago. And yet, he couldn't be certain. It sounded similar but different, a little too low in places, a little too smooth in others. No, they couldn't be the same person. Related perhaps, distant relatives separated by countless generations? But not the same.

Humans didn't live that long, not even mages lived that long. There was no guarantee they were even related at all, though the crest made for a compelling argument. Unless of course, if it wasn't a family crest... That... might explain why he'd never managed to find any references to it anywhere. Family crests weren't always preserved, weren't always recorded or documented. But there were also crests that were more archaic and guarded with very different uses and meanings. Was that why he couldn't find any mention of it? They acted normal enough, not like some member of an ancient secret society or anything like that. Or, that's what he believed, until he noticed the magic that hazed the air around them.

They didn't act out, didn't display any hostility or resentment. The figure in white simply offered their hospitality, left them menus penned in real ink, written on real parchment. And when he'd called them back? They'd spoken without the slightest hint of hesitation, offered their reassurances that the names of their drinks were only for theatrical appeal. They'd even suggested a drink for him that was... quite good actually. Definitely different from what he was familiar with but he had a feeling everything about this place was different. And the magic inside of the drink? It was bright and warm, familiar, too familiar. Buzzing in tandem with the alcohol in a manner that was different and strange but enjoyable.

The stew they set down in front of him was thick and flavorful, just thin enough that he didn't have to worry about it solidifying if he left it for a few minutes. Of course, the quality of their food and drink was only something he noticed _after_ he'd managed to shake off the initial unease brought about by the fact that the tavern keeper was using a _mesmer!_ _A Glamour!_ It made sense, weaving magic into their words _would_ help them maintain order and keep their patrons in line. It would keep the place feeling warm and welcoming, soothe even the most prickly drunkard's jagged edges. So they were aware that they were using magic... they really were a mage in the modern world. He didn't know how to feel about that... he needed to learn more.

Maybe... maybe he could ask them directly? They seemed open enough, welcoming enough and it wasn't like he was easy to hurt. Tomorrow perhaps, not while Sans was around. Even if they seemed safe, it was still risky, there was no guarantee that they actually were. Sans didn't have the stats to stand up against a mage. He was strong, yes but the young skeleton would never hold up if it came down to a real fight. He couldn't read their stats which was usually a bad sign. There was still the enchanted ring in his inventory, he could gather more magic, prepare for the worst if it came to that. Grillby's opinions of them however, improved over the course of their visit and he stopped feeling quite so wary of them the longer they stayed. It could have just been the magic in the air working against him... but they felt more monster than human.

The owner was kind and attentive, social, perhaps a little eccentric but not necessarily in a bad way. And when they stood up for Sans? He knew that he had to speak with them. For the sake of the other monsters in the city if nothing else. The feeling in the air was, first and foremost, dark, deadly, dangerous. But there was something protective there as well, masked by a thick haze of outrage and displeasure, feelings that curled rancidly through the air alongside blood lust and rage. If those feelings had been focused on him, he likely would have been retaliating before he could remember the treaty. But they didn't attack, they'd protected Sans, with spiteful magic and frozen wrath that hissed from their every word. But protect him they had. By the time they were escorted out, he understood them a little bit better. Eccentric and dangerous, whimsical, selfless. Grillby had a sinking feeling that their veil concealed empty eyes, something about them seemed so very sad.

That night, he slept very little. Questions haunted him at every turn, spinning recklessly through his mind and giving him reason to doubt if he was equipped to handle the situation on his own... despite his years of training and experience. The next morning, he left early, hoping to catch them before opening hours. That morning, he saw the cost of their kindness and their chivalry. The flowerbeds, once so lovingly tended, had been ripped apart. Nothing remained but scattered petals and wilted blooms, cast unceremoniously across hard cobbled stone. There was something heavy in the air, cold and harsh, angry in a deadly silent way. The tavern keeper was there, sweeping together the remains of their flowers with a stony expression fixed across what he could see of their face. Now wasn't the time, he didn't approach. Grillby left without a word, sparking harshly in the darkness of the alleyways.

Of course the humans wouldn't have let it be, they'd been impulsive enough to threaten a monster in public. There was no way that would be the end of it, the flowerbeds were probably just the beginning. They never should have gone to the Elderbrew in the first place, any human establishment willing to serve monsters became the target of ruthless prejudice. Normally it was just a boycott, something inconvenient but harmless... It was never that innocent if the staff sided with their kind. It was lucky the flowers were the only things damaged, it could have been so much worse. Grillby's flames lilted darkly towards deep blue as he marched back the way he'd come, spitting and hissing with an anger he refused to give voice to. It wasn't right, they hadn't done anything wrong! They were only doing their job! Maintaining order in their tavern, protecting their patrons!

This couldn't go on. Asgore needed to hurry, he didn't know how much longer he could stand this sort of racism, this sort of cruelty. Grillby could only hole himself up inside of the embassy for so long, ignoring the world around him. There were only so many books to read, so many recipes to try, so many ways to experiment with his time and his energy. He would certainly talk to the tavern owner someday, but not today, perhaps not for a long time. He was an elemental, he could wait decades if he had to. So long as he got answers, he could bear it. So long as he avoided drunken teenage humans with no respect for others, he could shove aside his memories of smoke and clashing steel. Uncertain though the times may be, the humans hadn't hurt anyone in a while. One group of drunken teenagers didn't mean the death of diplomacy.

Grillby could be patient, he could be chill... _Damnit Sans!_ _Were even his own thoughts no longer sacred?_

  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
Apparently, Alphys had a lot to say about magnetite and when he said a lot, he meant a lot. She went over everything from its most well known properties and common uses to more fanatical applications that she'd only dreamed of. As it turned out, she'd been fantasizing about how it might effect the marriage of magic and science but refrained from petitioning the dean for any samples. It seemed that she wasn't quite as oblivious to the fact that she was being taken advantage of as he'd thought. That... actually made Sans feel sort of guilty. Alphys wasn't stupid. True, she got caught up in the moment when it came to science and the promise of further advancement. But she'd learned well from her past mistakes.

The thought of apologizing to her distracted him for a moment but then he'd have to admit that he'd doubted her in the first place. He could imagine the look on her face, how hurt and betrayed she'd feel by the realization that he didn't trust her to make smart, well informed decisions on her own. The past didn't help, he felt like such a jerk. And the next thing he knew, she was derailing his thoughts again when she mentioned lodestones. Talking about how she'd read about human mages using large magnetite crystals to focus magic in strange and unpredictable ways. Suddenly, it felt like his soul had frozen in his chest. She went on without noticing his sudden distress, rambling excitedly about old journals and reports from the war.

With enough mastery, a mage could curse a monster and make their magic stop working right. They could hex entire forests, turn them into twisting labyrinths that no one would ever escape. Distort the senses, make even the most seasoned travelers wander aimlessly while their compasses spun wildly, unable to tell north from south or east from west... often falling victim to ruthless ambushes or horrific beasts of mud and clay. Sans felt sick, he really hoped Alphys had no idea what she was talking about. But... the magnetite he'd found... The crystals were _small,_ it was like _sand,_ would they really be able to... The way his magic reacted when he tried finding that building... The horrible sense of nausea and dejavu, wandering in circles, getting no where....

The explanation was so simple, why did it scare him so much? There was only one thing to do. He tried to ignore the look of confusion and worry that the small lizard monster gave him as he hurried out the door, tossing a quick apology over his shoulder. Oh, he had no doubts that she'd interrogate him over it later but he had to be sure. Sans ignored the sound of her calling out his name, reaching for his magic before he even reached the doorway. If he hadn't been in such a hurry, he would have seen Alphys drop the phial of magnetite the instant he vanished. She'd never seen him use translocation magic before, much less in such an obvious way. But he wasn't thinking about any of that right then.

The only thing on his mind was getting his hands on a serviceable compass that was at least somewhat reliable. In the end, that was what led him to the moment where he stood at the edge of the anomaly, holding a simple cheap plastic compass, watching the needle point north. Nothing was going to happen if he didn't pass that invisible line. Sans wouldn't know if it really did fuck with magnetic north, he wouldn't know if the magnetite really was being used to keep people out. Was there any guarantee _that_ was even what it was being used for? No. Animus could probably create a similar effect if they wanted. Human mages were known for being versatile, even the more specialized ones had been scary and came up with all sorts of insane uses for magic that no one else had thought of at the time. No one except....

A bitter pang twisted inside of his soul and he viciously shoved it aside, only to find himself hesitating. There was... something more... and the moment he focused on it? It was like a switch had flipped on somewhere in his mind, a long dead instinct that was slowly creeping into wakefulness. Something was pulling him towards that building, as if he'd left a part of himself behind a long time ago and was only just starting to realize it. Sans hesitantly took that first step and then hurled himself into the unknown when the feeling surged violently inside of him. The compass pinwheeled violently, spinning wildly in circles, rotating in one direction and than chasing another without any rhyme or reason. Something in his soul was screaming like a petulant child, desperate and frustrated, scared and yet driven onwards by some frantic need that he couldn't possibly put to words.

No matter how fast he ran, no matter how hard he tried, he always ended up right back where he started. He wanted to scream, he wanted to cry, to curse the sky and the stars for what ever cruel creature had ever invented such magic in the first place. Maybe he did cry, maybe he screamed, he didn't know. Everything became the rustle of dead leaves and the brush of wind after long enough. The stumbling jolt of roots and wiry undergrowth that tripped and tangled and tore at his socks, at his slippers, at his ankles. Burrs and brambles snatched at his hoodie and it seemed that no matter how hard he tried to avoid them, he always stumbled into the same thorned bushes. Bushes that raked over his skull, branches that prodded at his orbits and scraped at his bones.

The only mercy to it was that he was a skeleton. There was no skin to scratch and no blood to draw. At least, none that wasn't shielded by bone and masked by thick magic and marrow. But the frustration and wordless, frantic distress in his soul only grew worse and worse. Time didn't matter anymore, all he knew was that it had long grown dark when he finally stumbled to a stop, ragged and defeated. It felt like he'd vomited out the entire contents of his soul, like he'd scraped himself raw and hollow... Like every emotion inside of him was worn thin, a pale shadow of what it should be except for the crushing failure that bore down on him from all sides. And it still wasn't enough! He hadn't found them, his soul was still screaming and he didn't know why!

A thin broken sob ripped itself free of him and then he felt the core of his being freeze in his chest at the sound of a branch snapping nearby. _No... no no no..._ He didn't have the magic to retreat, he was too tired to run. Was it an animal? _Please be an animal._ Most animals were scared of skeleton monsters and the ones that weren't were usually amiable, curious but not dangerous. Not enough magic left to scan his surroundings for other living souls, not enough magic to parse intent or gauge someone's stats. Sans flinched when he heard boots crunching through dried leaves somewhere to his right and a sudden beam of light panned through the darkness, landing squarely on him.

If he'd had a heart, it might have stopped beating. As it stood, he definitely wasn't breathing anymore... frozen stiff as he waited for who ever it was to come to a decision about him. Silence and then a sudden flurry of movement. The point of light rushed towards him and tumbled to the ground somewhere to his right as strong arms enveloped him. The scent of pasta sauce and cleaning supplies washed over him, faintly shadowed by lilac laundry detergent and the smell of bones. A familiar voice reverberated through his skull, scaring an owl free of its perch somewhere nearby, the angry screech of the bird taking flight echoing darkly around them. "BROTHER!!! I WAS SO WORRIED! IT'S OKAY! IT'S ALIRGHT, I'M HERE! I'M HERE NOW!"

It was too much for him to bear after the horrible day... the week he'd had. Sans broke, burying his face in Papyrus' scarf while his brother gently rocked him. His little brother, his baby brother. He should have been comforting Papyrus, he should have been apologizing for worrying him! The only things that left him were pitiful wheezing sobs as his brother muttered gentle reassurances and soft comforting words to him. This was wrong! He was supposed to be the big brother! He was supposed to be strong enough for them both! When had he become such a burden? Why was he so weak? Why was he even fighting anymore? He couldn't change anything, why was he even trying? What could he have possibly achieved on his own?

When it mattered most, he was never there, never good enough, never strong enough! The soft press of bony digits against his first cervical vertebrae forced Sans to relax. There was something in his magic, in his soul, that recognized the gesture as soothing, comforting. When had Papyrus learned to do that? Why hadn't he noticed it sooner? But what ever other self deprecating thoughts he might have had were quickly washed away by the rolling waves of emotion sweeping away from his brother. And he didn't have the presence of mind to object when he started carrying him back the way he'd come, abandoning his flashlight. Papyrus didn't need it, not really, he'd probably only brought it in case he ran into any humans.

There was no fight left in Sans, none. He couldn't walk on his own, he'd run himself ragged and the magic his younger brother was using just wasn't fair. It was warm and gentle, familiar in a way that soothed his weary soul and somehow made it ache with longing at the same time. There was still a prickling frustration and unease with every step they took away from the magnetic deadzone... A mindless fear and distress that made him feel like a helpless child, twisting at his soul painfully with memories of the day they'd lost Gaster. But the magic Papyrus was sending him was warm and hazy, radiating safety, strength, comfort and care. Sans only managed to stay awake for a few minutes before the gentle rocking motion of his brother's strides left him sleeping soundly in the one place he truly felt safe.... 

In his brother's arms. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Felt like I should have added something more, maybe some dialogue somewhere?  
> But it just didn't want to show so all you got was pretty much just a summery of events, sorry.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaster stews in his own head for a bit, worries about Animus and sees something that freaks him out a little.  
> Animus is horrified by the fact that Gaster saw something they didn't mean for him to see.  
> We get another look in on the shit show that is our transported character's mental and emotional state.  
> Sans gets ignored.  
> And Animus continues making unhealthy decisions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Undertale owned by Toby Fox

They were unstable. That was the worst thing on Gaster's mind as he stared across the sitting room to where Animus sat opposite to him, sparks of magic dancing in their eyes. Eyes that were scanning over the pages of the book they were holding, completely indifferent to his presence. The emotional distance was a bad sign, their sudden mood swings ever more so. It had only been a few days since he regained his senses... Since their less than ideal exchange over lunch. He'd pushed too far too quickly, it was only to be expected. If they'd been alone as long as he suspected... it was a wonder they were even alive at all. By his understanding of it, they should have tried committing suicide a long time ago.

Creatures in possession of physical bodies didn't experience the fate of falling down. Not without external damage in addition to overwhelming stress on the soul. The term for a more physical being suffering from such a condition was referred to as _coma_ if he remembered properly and so far they hadn't shown any of the behaviors that he would have associated with self harm. Yes, they were quiet, but that seemed to be due to a reclusive and distrustful mindset that made him wonder if Animus was watching him nearly as closely as he was them. They didn't trust him, it was like they thought he was scanning them for weaknesses, trying to find an ideal moment to attack. Perhaps they were, it wasn't uncommon for monsters to suffer from acute paranoia as the result of damage to the soul.

It wasn't unreasonable to assume that his savior might suffer from some of the very same symptoms. Right... first off, withdrawal. The individual pulls away from others and starts putting up walls, refusing to interact with the people around them. Second, muted emotions. They stopped feeling things as strongly and no longer found enjoyment in the things they used to. Animus... didn't seem to like anything at all... There was no art of any kind in their home or any evidence of hobbies or interests. Third, the victim suffered an inability to connect with others, a loss of empathy and compassion.... Shit... that was three for three... The fourth symptom, agitation. Negative emotions would seem more prominent due to the muted nature of more positive feelings. This commonly lead to more aggressive tendencies, paranoia, anxiety, violent displays of anger triggered by the fight or flight response.

Everything was almost preternaturally clean and orderly, if he found a wrinkle in something that he hadn't caused himself, it was a significant event. Everything was shades of off white and gold or a deep oaken brown, uniform and unchanging. They stuck to a concrete schedule, something that never deviated, was never compromised. If something unexpected happened, they swept through it with a collected calm that was eerie, projecting an aura of complete confidence... the illusion of control. Control in one aspect to counteract the feeling of helplessness? Next was irritation. Without empathy or compassion, a great deal of inter personal communication would be seen as pointless and annoying. Damn... the more he thought about it, the worse it seemed. There wasn't a single warning sign that they weren't showing, at least, as far as the ones he expected to see in a more physical being were concerned.

Other than their soul, they appeared in near perfect health. True, they were a bit pale and they were certainly injured in some manner but it wasn't like they were too weak to move on their own. The physical body showed no signs of degradation or none that he could easily see. But even with a physical body that maintained most of its own functionality, there had to be side effects. Their soul was in a horrific state, how could they walk around like nothing was wrong? It didn't make any sense, though he knew better than to press for details. The harsh reaction to his question about their personal life had shown him rather clearly where they drew the line. Their temperament was volatile, easily angered or aggitated, prone to long periods of silence which they appeared to favor above conversation.

It wasn't ideal, the only real way to help someone with a damaged soul was to get them to open up. If they suffered in silence, if they kept it to themself and refused aid, they wouldn't last very long. Even if Animus had some kind of advantage afforded to them thanks to their unique physiology, they couldn't keep going like this indefinitely. Sooner or later, it would be too much. Sooner or later, they would reach a tipping point. And they would either commit suicide like a human or... The thought of seeing them lying lifeless in a cot, barely breathing, wasting away to nothing... Gaster had to take a moment to center himself again, banishing that thought to the farthest corners of his mind. He'd seen too many souls suffer that fate in his time as a medic during the war and as a doctor in the underground after that.

It would be unpleasant, they would loose patience with him. But if nothing else... he had a safety net. Animus didn't want to hurt him, didn't want to kill him and there was something keeping them from acting too rashly around him. They'd said something about Sans vaporizing them if anything happened to him... That didn't seem right. While his eldest had the potential to become quite powerful in his own right, he'd only just been growing into his magic when they'd been separated. How much had changed while he'd been away? How much time had passed? It didn't bear thinking about. If he dwelled on it for too long, he'd only upset himself and he couldn't afford to become emotionally compromised right now.

For all of their flaws, Animus knew what they were doing and understood his situation, perhaps better than anyone else could. An injured soul was a death sentence for weaker monsters and based on the severity of the damage, just as deadly for paragons. Strong emotions would cause his soul to grow more active, generating more magic which would only exacerbate the issue. Normally, it only meant that what ever strain was present would get a little deeper or a little larger. In his case... it would be much worse. Without their aid, there was no doubt in his mind that he would be dust already. In some regards, the fact that he was still alive was like spitting in the face of medical science and common sense. Even loosing a small sliver of his soul should have left him on the verge of death, with the sort of condition his soul was in now? Everything he knew about medicine said that he was supposed to be dust right now... But... their explanation for how they saved him made sense, in some messed up, theoretical, near eldritch horror sort of way.

Every time Gaster tried to think of the time between the accident and his meeting with Animus, it left him reeling. It was like his perception was trying to shatter into thousands of fragments or more than that. Like common sense and rationality no longer existed or rather that they somehow meant the opposite of what they were supposed to. Calling it a headache was a great disservice. He hated it, if he had to compare it to something he'd seen or read of before... The best he could do was compare it to a book from some human author that had fallen down into the underground when he'd only just started raising Sans. Alice's Adventures in Wonderland or something like that, everything had been nonsensical but somehow apparently followed its own twisted sort of logic that all of the characters found perfectly reasonable. That was the best way to describe the odd kaleidoscope of insanity that assaulted him every time he tried to think of it. He knew that he survived the accident and that somehow it had made perfect sense that he wasn't dust when he'd first met Animus. But somehow... he couldn't remember why.

Lost in thought and still trying to make sense of his scattered recollections, his mind was instantly ripped off course by something decidedly out of place. A laugh, startled and bright, a feeling in the air, pulsing brilliantly with amusement and something similar to a mother's affection for a child. Gaster looked up and froze. There was life in Animus' expression, something soft and gentle, magic alight in their gaze while they stared at the page with rapt attention. What? It was just a book, how? This didn't make any sense, their soul was damaged, horribly disfigured and suffering deeply. How could a simple book change any of that? How could it make them smile with such genuine emotion? Such tenderness and joy? How could it offer them even the slightest bit of relief? They must have sensed his puzzlement because an instant later their eyes had emptied of magic and flicked towards him for less than a fraction of a second.

The life left their expression. Animus averted their gaze and pointedly marked the page, snapping the book closed to set it aside. Silence hung heavy between them, Gaster too caught off guard to comment and his host unwilling to speak. They made no comment, no excuse, simply stood and swept towards the kitchen, leaving a general impression of unease in their wake. Were they... uncomfortable? Were they seriously unsettled by the thought that they'd displayed genuine emotion in front of him? Were they really that self conscious? Yes... with as damaged as their soul was... it made sense... Gaster glanced back at the book, simple brown leather bound by hand. Something told him it would be a very bad idea to look into this, no matter how worried and confused he was. And if he was curious as well? It wasn't worth setting back any positive gains from their past few days together. When they came to inform him that dinner was ready, the book was exactly where they'd left it.   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
Damnit! What had they been thinking? No, they hadn't been thinking, that was the problem! Of course it would have happened, it always happened when they were reading, even if they weren't _trying_ to connect with the characters. But what else were they supposed to do? They couldn't leave the house, not safely, not without being confronted by Sans. The barrier was an excellent way of keeping Gaster safe and contained until he was well enough to be separated from the magic and soul energy they'd left with him. It was a necessary measure, a safety net they'd put in place just in case of the worst possible outcome. But it was horribly suspicious and to top it off, the little gremlin was poking at the barrier every chance he got! They'd already had to recharge the citrine cluster several times since getting back! They would have to supply it with more energy soon.

_Calm, stay calm._ Animus leaned against the wall of the kitchen and took several deep breaths, trying to ignore the first twitches of pain in their chest. Getting worked up now would only leave them in an even worse state than they already were, the stress of the past week was already catching up with them. No anger, no irritation, no more self deprecation or flagellation. They could reprimand themself all they liked later, now wasn't the time. If they didn't remain calm, Gaster would realize something was wrong. He already knew that they were wounded, they couldn't show any more signs of weakness. It was time for them to get started on dinner anyway, if they didn't reign in their emotions, it was going to flavor the food. That was unacceptable, they had standards and he was a guest... even if he was... far too close for comfort. Stars damnit! They couldn't stop thinking of everything they'd learned, all of the memories they'd collected, the feelings they'd shared.

Another few deep breaths and they were quickly setting about, shoving aside the rancid feeling in their soul with sheer force of will if nothing else. Right, all they had to do was center themself, disassociate, forget. It was easy when they had a task, what were they making tonight.... Lasagna, Gaster was staring out the windows more than usual, talking less, though he was still _trying_ to carry conversation every now and then. He was clearly distracted, likely thinking about Papyrus and Sans, so the Italian food might help a bit. A little taste of home, it wasn't pasta and the youngest of the skeleton household hadn't been very successful in his culinary explorations when their father was still a part of their lives. But family cooking hour was something they'd done, the thing that ignited the little skeleton's interest in spaghetti in the first place. _No,_ Papyrus was an _adult_ now. _Stop_ thinking of him as that small bitty bones covered in tomato sauce.

With one vicious shake of their head, Animus banished the lingering visions of a young Papyrus and his only slightly older brother running around the kitchen being chased by their father carrying a soapy washcloth. There was no place for such thoughts. It wasn't their life, it wasn't their right to carry such things with them. As a passive observer it was one thing to have so much information about them, so many memories of their adventures. But now that they were a part of their world? A genuine part of their world that could be seen and felt, could be interacted with? Wasn't it the same thing as technically having stalked their entire family since before the two of them were even born? It was definitely morally questionable, even if there wasn't any malicious intent involved. And... they couldn't exactly say that it _hadn't_ left them more than just a little bit protective and possibly even slightly possessive of them.

Yeah, they had to cut ties as quickly as possible, make it fast, like ripping off a band aid. They couldn't afford to meet Papyrus face to face, they weren't capable of caring in the same sense as a person with a healthy soul. If they got involved, it would be in all of the wrong ways, they'd only make things harder for everyone. Best to just drop him off at the front of the driveway and disappear into the night. Something about missing their reunion really annoyed them, in the same sort of sense as a particularly vexing cliff hanger for an anime or a book. But it couldn't be helped, tomorrow. Yes, tomorrow night he would be well enough to be separated from the magic they'd left surrounding his soul.

It would be simple and painless. True, he might end up feeling uncomfortable or unsettled in its absence after so long but that was only to be expected. They would inspect his magic levels, check the density of his bones, make certain he was well enough to leave. The thought of him staying much longer scared them, he was too intelligent, hiding things from him was getting harder. No, they were just getting restless, making mistakes, that was all it was. In addition, he was more mobile than he'd been in the beginning and skeletons were very light so he didn't make a whole lot of noise when he was moving about. He hadn't tried spying on them yet, they'd been keeping an eye on him with magic and he'd been _mostly_ behaving.

Dinner was... quiet that night and not in the peaceful sort of way that they preferred. It was quiet in an awkward, be careful what you say sort of way. Gaster was clearly curious about the book but he hadn't touched it, they knew he hadn't touched it and he hadn't said anything about it yet either. There was a sudden spike of emotion just outside the boundary line and Animus tensed fractionally, unable to help it. Sans, again... There was... something different this time. It wasn't dark out yet so it was around the time of day he usually showed up but... these emotions. Something was wrong... it felt like desperation, fear... and Gaster was speaking, diverting their attention away from the barrier. _'I have been meaning to apologize.'_ Animus looked at him, genuinely looked at him for the first time that night.

The skeleton in front of them was dignified as ever, self assured, strong in a way that they couldn't help but envy if only a little. Perhaps some of it bled into their words, they weren't entirely certain. All they knew was that they suddenly felt much more tense than they had even after discovering that his son was trying to bypass their safety measures _again_. "Apologize?" For a moment, he looked away, nodding quietly almost as if trying to convince himself that, yes, this conversation was actually necessary. Hmm... well, perhaps he was learning when it was and when it wasn't a good time to try pressing them for social interaction. It was only to be expected though, they were the only other living creature he'd been exposed to since he returned, he was probably feeling isolated. _'For the other night. It seemed as though I touched a nerve and I have been unable to find a suitable moment to address it.'_

Of course, Gaster was polite, they were being an asshole. With a deep breath, they shoved aside the repeated sparks of awareness along the outside of the barrier and returned their attention to their plate. The lasagna was going to get cold. That was unacceptable, it was only good while it was still hot and reheating it didn't do it justice. So despite not being hungry, they started to eat, thinking over what he'd said. Did he expect them to elaborate or was he hoping that they would actually answer the question they'd shot down? Well, that was personal and they weren't going to get into how long it had been since they'd last seen their back stabbing family... if any of them could actually be considered their family at all.

An explanation for their behavior was probably good enough. Their voice came out much calmer than they were expecting, though the decidedly dead tone probably didn't inspire confidence. Oh well, it couldn't be helped. Gaster didn't like it when they faked emotion, it unsettled him and they couldn't exactly add emotion to their voice without the whole song and dance to go with it. "There is no need for you to apologize. You had reason to ask and I had reason to refuse you the dignity of an answer. I could have been more polite and I acknowledge that I overstepped as well. It was wrong of me to loose my temper when I did, it could have compromised your health." There were several moments of absolute silence, broken only by the quiet clicking of their own silverware against the place setting in front of them. Then Gaster spoke up, sounding surprised and maybe even a bit incredulous. _'Are you trying to apologize? For loosing your temper?'_

Less than ten minutes into dinner and he was already testing their patience. They looked up at him with a decidedly bored expression, dead panned as they met his surprised gaze and then spoke with no small amount of sarcasm. "No, I was merely commenting on the lovely weather tonight." For a little while, he seemed completely taken aback. That was one reaction they didn't mind, but when they returned their attention to the meal in front of them, something changed. There was a sudden flare of emotion and a sound that made them feel... something... It wasn't unpleasant... at least... they didn't think so. It didn't hurt, it was just... confusing... and... heavy? Gaster laughed, bright and genuine. A deep, rich sound that was... distracting... The way his font altered it, making it sound almost like music... They had to shake themself slightly to ignore what ever it was doing to their mind, they couldn't think when he was doing that.

Then he was speaking, chuckling softly and doing his best to stifle himself. _'Oh dear, I hope that was not your very first attempt at humor. As far as sarcasm is concerned, you certainly could have given it more effort.'_ That was just insulting! They could make jokes! Good jokes that could make people laugh! Real people! Even if they didn't really find any of the stupid puns or turns of phrase all that entertaining themself unless they were nose deep in a book. Great... now they were blushing again. Animus hunched over in their seat slightly, studying the melted cheese pattern on their slice of lasagna like it was the most interesting thing they'd ever seen. It wasn't their fault that they didn't actually interact with people as themself, it's not like anyone would be okay with the way they were. Someone like them would be seen as creepy or worse if they acted like this in public. Maybe... maybe that was why they rose to the bait. Because embarrassing or not, Gaster was the first person who'd seen them for who they really were in what felt like centuries... Because he knew them, even if it wasn't very well. "Would you know the difference either way?"

The rest of the night was... not unpleasant? They told jokes, had an actual civil conversation with another person... got to hear him laugh some more. Once or twice, he managed to startle a laugh out of them in return, though they never felt it. If there was anything there, it was gone before they could even recognize it. And... they were used to it. Conditioned responses to familiar situations that used to have meaning. If nothing else, Gaster seemed happy and they weren't going to ruin it for him. They made lasagna specifically to make him feel better, the good cheer was an added bonus. If he could laugh like that without showing any signs of strain, it meant that his recovery was going well. Which is why it made absolutely no sense to them later that night when they decided to check on his bone density again.

It started like it always did, they got their patient back to his room and pulled up a chair, letting him sit on the mattress. They asked for his hand and gently prodded at his phalanges, testing with their magic where they were too nervous to trust that they wouldn't hurt him if they were too rough physically. His bones were still softer than they should have been. Not quite brittle but falling down a flight of stairs would be enough to leave him with numerous cancellous fractures and he wasn't even that heavy to begin with. It wasn't safe to send him home yet. They must have frowned or something because he was derailing their train of thought with a needless comment of his own while they were still busy trying to parse the _why_ in this whole mess. _'That bad?'_

It was harder to push aside their irritation than it should have been and they hated to admit that there was a part of them that was... Not really _happy_ that he would be staying longer... but that irritating little piece of them _would_ have _missed_ him when he was gone. That wasn't good, their protectiveness was starting to get to them. The memory of his smile was enough to keep them from loosing their temper, even if they felt some savage, irrational urge to lash out at him for asking. "Not really. You seem to be recovering, just not as quickly as I would have thought. Your energy levels and increased mobility would have suggested that you were in the later stages of regeneration but your bone density still leaves much to be desired." The crooked smirk he sent their way was... something alright. Confident and amused, the jittering feeling in the air should have tipped them off even before he started talking. They'd spent long enough chatting with the skeleton, trading jokes back and forth. They should have seen this coming. _'I could just be getting old, I do have two wonderful children.'_ Animus sighed and let him fold his hands in his lap, straightening up and crossing their arms with a frown.

It felt less like a joke and more like he was baiting them again, they didn't like it. Still, they did respond at least, trying to parse what exactly he was hoping to achieve from all of this. "Yes, I have met them you know." His smirk grew into a genuine smile, something soft and proud in his wisps. Stars, that was painful to look at. When was the last time their own parents displayed that sort of affection? They almost made the mistake of actually thinking about it but managed to push it aside before they hurt themself. _Bad Animus,_ no thinking about betrayal and lies, focus on the moment. For a few seconds, silence reigned and they managed to break it after clearing their throat for a moment. "Regardless, I doubt your sons have anything to do with it. Maybe if you had another two kids but if that was the case, your bones would be brittle. Right now, they more resemble the density of a child's bones. The outer structure is softer than it should be, a bit too flexible. But I suppose you know what a cancellous fracture is and why young children get them more often than adults."

Thank the stars, Gaster frowned, looking thoughtful and mercies of all mercies, he was off in his own little world again. Taking that as an invitation to retreat, Animus hurried towards the door, flinching when he addressed them again. _'Rest well Animus... And... thank you, for everything.'_ Something twitched inside of them, bitter and painful. Another emotion they couldn't read, that was happening way too many times in one night for their comfort. Why did they suddenly feel so... alone. They could only nod quietly before slipping outside the guest room, closing the door quietly behind them... Feeling for all the world, completely lost. What was wrong with them? This was how attachment happened, they started treating him like a person and then... then they'd have trouble cutting ties...

Why did he have to be so... _so nice?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Sniff sniff.* I smell inner turmoil.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Animus' mental state is going to hell.  
> Gaster doesn't appear to realize that anything is out of the ordinary... like hell.  
> There are exploding blueberries.  
> Gaster learns that he was given a bath without his consent.  
> And skeldad manages to get our transported character to tell him what he should expect from his kids once he finally sees them again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Undertale owned by Toby Fox

It took them the better part of the entire night to organize their thoughts. Most of which Animus spent just outside of Gaster's room, resting against the door and trying to sort out the mess inside of their head. At some point they must have sat down or maybe their legs gave out, they weren't entirely certain and they didn't really care. What mattered was that they felt absolutely horrible, in more ways than one. They weren't certain if it was them or Gaster that was the problem, all they knew was that nothing made sense anymore. The thought of banging their head against the nearest wall felt far too enticing, if only for the fact that it would give them something else to focus on, even if only for a few seconds.

It was illogical, it was pointless, it was detrimental if anything. But they still found tension building throughout their entire body. _Okay!_ Sitting still and agonizing over it wasn't going to help, it was just making things worse. They had to move or they were going to have a complete meltdown which was not something they wanted to go through with Gaster nearby. With a concerted effort, Animus wrenched themself upright and started walking. They had no specific destination in mind, no real goal aside from bringing order to the chaos brought about by that one simple sentence, that one stupid phrase. He couldn't stay, his very presence was throwing their entire world into disarray. It was an easy decision to make but one that was infinitely more difficult in practice. There were two children waiting for him out there, or well... not really children anymore but that was besides the point.

Sending him back to his family made sense. That was their original plan, the only thing that changed was timescale but that made it so much more difficult. He wasn't in any shape to be out in the world as he was and adding to that was the fact that if they sent him away now, he would have to leave with the magic and soul energy they'd used to keep him alive. Gaster wasn't an idiot and even if he was, the scientist's life was so strongly interconnected with so many intelligent and powerful individuals... Even if he was a fool, all he would need to do is say that he wanted to meet with them again and just like that, his friends and family would pull every string they could. Their wards wouldn't be enough under that kind of scrutiny. One person, even a handful of people was one thing. But Gaster was friends with the king of all monsters, even if the monarchy had been traded for a loosely connected non militant network that went mostly ignored by the human authorities and governing bodies.

If he wanted to, Azgore could mobilize at least half of his entire kingdom at a moment's notice. For something so trivial, there was some measure of doubt as to whether or not people would actually throw in to help. But at the same time, monsters as a whole were rather understanding and accommodating. Some would join in just to fill their day with something different or exciting for a change. Others would actually genuinely care or worry based on what they knew of the situation. The headache was back, throbbing painfully between their eyes. Emotion... they'd never considered that it might be this problematic. True, anger could prove dangerous, sadness was unproductive and they didn't like being anxious all of the time in one way or another. But it had never been _this_ distracting before... or maybe it had.

No, it definitely had, they just hadn't felt this way in so long that they'd hoped the worst was past them. He'd done this to them, Gaster had somehow destabilized their mental state just by being there. This couldn't continue, it was distracting, unproductive, they had more important things to focus on. So what if he would be immune to their more targeted magic effects? So what if he'd be able to find them where ever they went? There were measures they could take to defend themself and so long as they kept the black sand with them... yes... but there was a great deal that needed doing first. The shadows would view him as a tasty little treat as he was now. He was vulnerable and if anything unexpected happened on the trip back to town or worse, after he returned to his sons' sides, they would be blamed for it.

So much work, this was why they didn't take people into their life, ever. People required maintenance, relationships were messy, even in passing. That was fine, they only needed to protect him for a little while longer. Another heavy pulse of something light and fulfilled hit them all at once and they had to lean against the front door for a few seconds to gather their bearings. Stars that was distracting, not painful but... distracting. Their nature was making this more difficult than it needed to be and it would only continue to hinder them the longer their magic remained attached to him. They could sense the light inside of him, something that spoke to them far too deeply. It over rode logic and reasoning, threw caution to the winds. But they weren't the same, they weren't even similar. It was just their magic, a marker that would get him killed if they didn't find a way to shield him.

And with that thought in mind, they walked out into the darkness of night and tried to forget. Forget the memories they'd collected of a world that wasn't always theirs. Tried to forget the blood and dust that soaked the ground and choked at the air... The soul crushing pain of one who had so little left to loose, the mournful cry of a lone survivor. A burden they shared, or close enough to it. Could he ever understand the suffering of someone who'd lived as long as they had? The burdens they'd carried, the unique circumstances that magnified everything a thousand fold? No... there was no connection, only the illusion of kinship. True, he suffered and it was for that reason they'd felt drawn to his story in particular. But it wasn't enough, not nearly enough. If he learned, there would be less understanding and more pain involved. He would pity them, more than he already did. And it was with that thought that they trained, something they hadn't done since Gaster had entered their life. By the time the sun rose, they were feeling more centered, several hours of practiced motion and precise control later.

One thing that never changed over the centuries was the martial arts. True, on some level it supposedly evolved. But there was very little that could influence a discipline practiced over entire lifetimes. By now it was a part of them, one that they'd had to learn to control over time. Surrendering to mindless instinct was never a good thing, especially not when they had so much ingrained mastery carved into their very soul. On the bright side though, it did help them center themself, reboot in a sense, even if they hadn't slept at all... even if the sense of peace wouldn't last very long. They had maybe another hour or two before Gaster woke up. Sometimes they wished he lived by Cree hours, that would make their life so much easier.

It was just their luck they landed in a timeline where such a thing either didn't exist, or ended up being beaten out of him by warfare and survival. A part of them was curious as to which was the case but they'd seen enough of his past already. There was no need for them to delve any deeper. Besides, they knew what was waiting for them on the other side of that hill. It wasn't pleasant and they had more than enough to deal with already. By the time their guest was awake, they'd already prepared a change of clothes and left them folded neatly on the table. Breakfast was fast coming, pancakes made with blueberries gathered from their own garden out back. Being able to manipulate plants and regulate climate within the barrier had its advantages, even if it used more magic than they liked. And... they had to admit that the occasionally unpredictable side effects were less than ideal.

It had taken them almost all of the time they had left before Gaster woke to get the blueberries to ripen properly. They wished they could forget the neon pink versions that exploded violently into a shower of pulp the moment they were touched. That mishap had resulted in a change of clothes and a long stick being employed to test the fruit from that point afterwards. Granted, they probably should have realized there was something wrong considering the excess concentration of magic they'd detected from the berries. But lack of sleep didn't exactly make it easy to focus on things like that. When Gaster paced into the kitchen they paid him no more notice than what it took for them to deposit a plate of steaming blueberry pancakes, the non exploding variety, down in front of him. After that, their morning followed its usual rhythm.

They cooked for themself to maintain appearances and fell into a peaceful sort of silence. It wasn't exactly companionable but it was gentler than it was usually. Animus tried not to dwell on it, tried to draw inwards and when the silence stretched on for a little too long without the skeleton touching his meal, they finally deigned to break it. "I will be returning you to your sons tonight." There wasn't much good that could be said about their topic of choice however and they could sense that their guest was less than enthused. That was... strange... They would have expected him to latch onto the subject, there should have been some hint of anticipation or joy. But... they didn't sense any of that, only, worry. Was he concerned as to how much time had passed? It didn't matter, after tonight he wouldn't be their problem anymore.

It felt like he wanted to say something but for some reason Gaster wasn't commenting, wasn't objecting, he just sat there, silently. Something rancid churned in their soul and they wordlessly plated up their own breakfast, suddenly feeling reluctant to sit at the table with him. But, appearances needed to be maintained, he was a guest and they wouldn't take their plate into another room just to avoid him. That would be rude and it would probably lead to another round of questions they didn't want to answer. So they sat down, speaking to him idly as they cut into the spongy pancakes on their plate. "I have prepared a change of clothes and can have a bath drawn after we are done here. The soap is enchanted so you should be able to wash up easily enough. If you would like something to help with your current physical condition, I could probably make a calcium powder to go in the water but you would have to shower afterwards to get off any of the more stubborn residue."

It took several minutes before he managed to work up the nerve to speak and the weak protest he gave them wasn't all that impressive. If anything, he sounded embarrassed and maybe a little cornered. _'I am afraid that any change of clothes you could provide me with might be a bit... large, considering my lack of muscles and soft tissues.'_ Ah, he hadn't realized they'd swapped out his clothes once already. Oh well, not like there was an easy way to tell him without making him feel violated. "That is not a concern. They were tailored with your build in mind. It was necessary to dispose of the clothing you were wearing, I used the measurements from your old attire to make you something serviceable."

There was a long, uncomfortable pause and for a moment, they allowed themself a brief glance at the skeleton sitting across from them. There was a look of absolute mortification on his face and his cheekbones were stained a bright yellow. Well, that was one of the reactions they'd expected. To his credit, he didn't shout at them or freak out about it. In fact, his only real answer to their statement was to question them quietly, sounding horrified and lost. _'What?'_ Animus sighed deeply, eating despite their complete lack of anything even resembling an appetite. At least they weren't nauseous. "Do give me some credit. You were thrown into a realm of chaos and dark magic, forgive me if I was reluctant to let you marinate in that sort of foulness a moment longer. Your clothing was beyond saving, though I did what I could to spare your dignity. I will admit however, you were in need of a bath and it was better to get it out of the way before you started suffering from sensory overload."

The silence that followed was nothing short of deafening, they could sense how uncomfortable and unhappy Gaster was. But it wasn't like lying to his face would have been much better. Besides, they didn't lie, they'd bend the truth from time to time, make it so they might be misunderstood more easily. But they didn't lie, not if they could help it. After they were certain that their morning couldn't grow any more awkward, their guest finally broke the silence, sounding quieter than they were used to by far. _'It was necessary?'_ Well, at least he wasn't screaming, they nodded softly and ate another bite of their pancakes, wishing they could have given themself one or two instead of a small stack. But Gaster would have noticed, he would have questioned it, would have pressed. "Yes. As a matter of fact, I burned what I was wearing the night I went to fetch you. That kind of magic is corruptive and dangerous. You know, you are rather lucky to still be sane. Any other linear being thrown into a realm of magic where time and space no longer form a cohesive whole would have lost their mind in moments. And before you ask, yes, I know from experience. I met a few others in my efforts to retrieve you. Some were better off than others... but none of them were salvageable."

That was what they kept telling themself, so why did the words feel so hollow? Could they have saved Gaster's followers, his lab assistants, his... _friends?_ No, it didn't bear thinking about. They'd surrendered the shards of the royal scientist, even if the first had not done so willingly. There would be no salvation for them, no rescue and those deaths were on their hands. Perhaps he knew that it was a false truth, something they told themself to justify their decision to leave them behind. But he didn't question it, didn't accuse them of being heartless or cruel. Instead, he simply muttered softly and finally started eating his own breakfast, his words quiet and mournful. _'I see.'_

How could he make them feel so... _horrible_ with just two words? He hadn't accused them of anything, they might have rather he _did!_ How could he accept everything so readily? Was he truly that grateful to them? If he was afraid of making them angry, they would have sensed as much. Instead it was that horrible feeling of pity again! It hurt, it made them twitchy and angry. It made the blueberries taste like ash, it made them feel bitter and ashamed. With a start, they realized that they... they were actually fighting back tears. Was it purely frustration? Or... maybe it was something else? They didn't know, they were confused and nothing was making sense anymore.

After taking a few minutes to try pushing aside the rancid feelings in their soul, they managed to break the silence again, trying to ignore the tightness in their chest. "I would have preferred to wait a while longer before sending you home. However, recent events have made it necessary to return you to your family sooner than expected. As such, I will have to provide you with further enchantments to ensure your health and safety until you have recovered." That seemed to get the skeleton's attention, Gaster focused sharply on them, so much so that they could feel his gaze. The tone of his voice wasn't exactly reassuring, protective and firm, almost harsh. _'Are they safe?'_ Well... that wasn't unexpected, though it did give them a chance to bury their self hatred with indifference.

If they hadn't expected the look in his orbits when they raised their attention to him... No, it still wouldn't have surprised them. Gaster was ridiculously protective of his children, even if it was warranted in the case of Sans. Having a child with a single digit for their maximum HP was nerve wracking, they'd peered into his day to day life in the underground more than enough to understand that much. "Yes. Sans and Papyrus are safe, though your eldest could use your support and I would not be surprised if your youngest knows more than he lets on. Much has changed during your absence and not all of it for the better. If you want a more detailed report, I suggest you speak with Grillby. I have been looking into elementals a bit more and he could probably give you a complete account of everything that happened from the moment you went missing to present day if you wanted it."

This time the silence only lasted a short while, as if the scientist was simply going over everything they'd ever said to him and trying to poke holes in what they'd told him. The moment of realization that washed over him wasn't all that spectacular or noteworthy. It was measured less by a sudden change in demeanor and more by the way his expression smoothed into something blank and judgemental. His words weren't accusing or heated when he spoke to them, if anything they were blunt and to the point. Somehow that didn't make it any better. _'You have always been vague when I ask about Sans and Papyrus. You never give any details, this is the most you have said about them since you brought me here. How long have I been missing and what are you hiding from me?'_

Animus studied the skeleton in front of them for several long moments, carefully considering. They could refuse to answer him, could insist he wait until he saw them for himself, somehow, they were reluctant to allow it. There was no room for compassion in their soul, nothing even resembling it unless they were nose deep in a book. But the shock of seeing his children fully grown without any chance to mentally prepare himself? No, that would be bad on so many different levels, they couldn't risk it. So rather than giving him another one of their simple not answers, they finally, finally told him. "You have been missing for years. I can not tell you how many precisely as my concept of time is less reliable than I would like to admit. However, in that time your sons have been through much. Sans has changed in stature very little, Papyrus on the other hand, now towers over his older brother. Standing side by side, you would probably be roughly the same height. As for what I am hiding from you. I suppose it would be best if you were prepared for what is waiting for you."

There was something heavy and wounded pulsing away from Gaster, not accusing or condemning. But it was clear that he was hurt by what they had to tell him and it was only going to get worse. So Animus did the only thing they could think to, they pushed aside their unfinished breakfast and steepled their fingers on the tabletop. He still seemed stable enough, good, this next bit was the hard part. "If you were standing, I would advise you sit down. However, seeing as you are already sitting, all I can do is ask you to temper your expectations." Great, now he looked anxious. Clearly worried though he was, he didn't interrupt them or ask any further questions, simply waiting for them to finish, waiting for the final shoe to drop. "Sans suffers from acute paranoia and other mental stresses as the result of severe and untreated PTSD. Before you ask, no, it was not your accident that caused it, though I imagine that was the start of things."

They shifted uncomfortably, wishing they could break eye contact with Gaster but knowing that it wouldn't have been a good idea. A part of them wished they could have just spiked his meal with some kind of anesthetic and dropped him off on the porch. Oh well, no point whining about it now. "Two more temporal anomalies manifested afterwards, the first a creature with no soul that sought to find meaning in life by any means necessary. The second... was a mageling child that fell into the underground some time later. They had no understanding of where they were or what they were capable of and their nature as a red souled human did not help. You can probably imagine how the situation developed from there and I have no intention of sharing any of the intimate details of what happened down there."

That much seemed to irk the royal scientist to some degree, though he didn't interrupt them. At least he wasn't demanding for them to tell him everything they knew, baby steps, they supposed. "All you need to know is that Sans is convinced that at any moment, his freedom might be taken away from him. He is terrified that he will wake up in Snowdin, that everything will be as it was before. And that he will have to worry for Papyrus' safety at every turn, because humans are unpredictable." Well... technically there was more to it than that and it was clear that Gaster didn't think they were being entirely honest but what more could they do? If they spilled every detail he might end up going after Frisk and that would jeopardize both his survival and their own. "He remembers the stories of the humans that came before them, as well as the few times your family encountered a lost human under the mountain. He needs stability and reassurance, I would recommend therapy if he was not so strongly opposed to the idea."

Had they spied on the brothers a little during their time stuck in the house with Gaster? Maybe a bit. They'd also looked into their pasts a little more than they could rightly justify but they'd been bored and Undertale had always been one of their biggest fallbacks. At least they didn't need to mention that part and thankfully, they were able to keep any of the guilt from working its way into their voice when they cleared their throat to continue. "But that is neither here nor there. It is possible that he might question whether you are real or not. He might reject the possibility out of hand, he might not be capable of comprehending it. You will have to pay careful attention to him. If he smiles, know that it is almost never genuine. If he makes puns, be aware that it is a defense mechanism, something he falls back on when stressed. If he tries running off or tells you he is going to Grillby's, know that it is a bold faced lie and he is trying to isolate himself."

Gaster was taking to the information dump a little too well for their liking, though if nothing else, that was for the best... Unless he was going into shock... could that happen to skeletons? They'd forgotten, there were so many different timelines and universes to keep track of. Oh well, nothing to do but finish and deal with what ever it was afterwards. "Grillby has yet to move his business above ground and his old bar is abandoned. I will not tell you how to parent but I would be reluctant to let him go off by himself while he is emotionally compromised. The humans may be more understanding and accepting these days but there are still deviants. There are still groups that would see a lone skeleton and take advantage and I would not be willing to risk it myself."

Their guest leaned back in his chair after they were finished, looking contemplative and clearly upset, clearly worried. But rather than demanding they take him to his sons right away, he turned his attention back to them, looking much older than he had just a few minutes prior. His voice was quiet when it left him, tired and weary but not accusatory at least... that was something. _'Tonight?'_ Animus nodded quietly, standing up and swiping over the front of their tunic to dispel any wrinkles brought about by their time spent sitting across from him. There was no pity or compassion in their voice when they answered him and their face felt rather blank even to them. But it wasn't like they could fix it without doing that thing that Gaster hated. So instead of trying to make him feel better, they simply accepted the numb feeling inside of them as they swept towards the sitting room and the flight of stairs beyond, offering him only a parting glance. "Tonight." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to apologize for the extended dry spell.  
> I haven't been sleeping well and as a result I haven't been able to focus on my writing.  
> This isn't a promise that I'll be updating again on a regular basis as my sleep schedule has taken a nose dive into unhealthy.  
> But I will be continuing the Undertale: Echoes timeline.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two people with way too much in common misreading shit.  
> Gaster's curiosity gets the better of him and he regrets it.  
> Animus being oblivious on 24 hours without sleep.  
> Papyrus... wait... Papyrus?  
> O_O  
> Oh dear... does that count as kidnapping?

As it turned out, Gaster did indeed request a powder to help strengthen his bones and they willingly obliged. It wasn't hard to make, though they refused to mention how they'd made it or why it smelled like powdered milk and chalk. What he didn't know wouldn't hurt him and their enchantments would do well enough to ensure it got the job done. By the time he was done rinsing off, he would probably be healthy as a horse, even if his soul was still recovering. Aside from that, they spent the hours leading up to night largely avoiding one another. If Gaster wanted to speak with them, they didn't give him the chance and their interactions during lunch were so stilted that he didn't risk any attempts at in depth communication.

They hadn't sensed Sans at the border since the night prior and that made Animus a little anxious. They were not worried about him! If he got himself dusted by a group of rowdy drunks, it would mean the possibility of a reset and they couldn't deal with a reset, they didn't even know what to expect. If nothing else, their guest seemed to pick up on their frayed nerves and he thankfully didn't press during dinner. Though... he was more talkative than they would like when it came time for them to add the protective enchantments to conceal his soul from unwanted eyes. Or rather, to hide the pulsing ball of light around his soul from hungry shadows looking for a quick score. It wasn't the same as a healthy soul from one of Animus' own kind but it was a tempting target just as well. And focusing on the magic itself rather than the soul it contained was harder than they wanted to admit.

It was all so intimately connected that to influence one would effect the other in some way which meant they had to examine everything and somehow manage not to look too deeply... never mind the fact that he wanted them to explain everything before they actually got any of the work done in the first place. _'So what precisely is the purpose of these added enchantments?'_ Animus sighed, long and suffering while they gently prodded at the magic surrounding Gaster's soul, wary of it despite having built the construct themself. They didn't have to answer him, they didn't have to humor him. But this _did_ involve his soul directly, his personal health, his safety. So however reluctant they were, they did answer him, feeling exposed despite their best efforts. "It should aid in concealing your presence and provide you defenses against the physical and the ethereal. It will not however, stop a bullet or a speeding car so I should thank you not be reckless."

There was no response for the longest time, though they could feel the skeleton staring at them critically. Then, just as they assumed he would let the subject matter die, he spoke up haltingly, almost delicately, as if worried he was touching a nerve. Well, that was interesting, he wasn't all that far off the mark... they didn't know how to feel about that. _'You seem to have a... strong distrust of incorporeal beings.'_ Or maybe he was off his mark... Very very off. Of everything he could have said, this was probably the most off putting. It wasn't necessarily that they distrusted all incorporeal beings, just a very small margin of them that Gaster's faction was entirely unaware of. What a way to make them feel uncomfortable in their own skin. It wasn't like they were racist or anything... Yeah, it was going to bother them if they didn't clear this up.

But how to proceed? If they gave away too much, it might jeopardize his safety and well being. Shadows were excessively petty and cruel creatures, if one overstepped even slightly, it was considered an invitation. If he suddenly started watching for them, guarding his back instead of continuing on with his life wholly ignorant... It might attract them regardless of the protections they'd placed. Animus' soul did a strange stutter leap in their chest and they had to forcefully shove the emotion back down. Yes, they were protecting him, it didn't mean anything. His life was intrinsically linked to their own. If they did a poor job of it, Sans would either kill them on the spot or Frisk would reset and there was no way of knowing if they were solidly attached to the timeline yet.

Perhaps it was their own unease that got them talking, all they knew for certain is that they'd given up on what they were doing. It was too dangerous to perform such spell work while they were emotionally compromised. "Not all of them. I honestly found Napstablook and his kin endearing once, amusing for however they are harmless. Humans fear ghosts mostly due to their inability to understand them." Maybe Gaster realized that they were entering lecture mode, maybe not. Animus was too distracted to watch him properly, swept away by memories of long ago. In any other circumstance, they might have imagined it was story time in the capital. That they were educating the young and ignorant, sharing their knowledge and experience with the next generation.

But such times would never be again. The city of light had fallen and their kin were slaughtered. And the one who listened now was not born of light as they were. He was an outsider, never mind how kind he seemed. "No, the creatures I worry about are born of anguish and strife, pain and suffering. They exist only to spread chaos and cruelty in their wake, seeking to snuff out hope at every turn." There was... something in the air, alongside the echo of ages past. Something similar to curiosity or awe with just the slightest hints of disbelief. Did he sense a flicker of their true age in their words or recollections? It was hard to tell. "They feed on the power born of negative emotions and seek to force it where ever they can. It might seem like nothing. A moment where everything suddenly seems so much more overwhelming. An instance where a lover or a child might over react and say something truly hurtful without ever meaning to... Just one second where luck seems against you and something truly horrific comes to pass."

Now there was fear, something squirming and uncomfortable, horrified. Was he wondering if the accident at the core was truly an accident? It was a valid concern... With their entry to the timeline, shadows were attracted to this world. Just because they'd landed in the modern age didn't mean a shadow hadn't ended up further back... No, it wasn't something for them to entertain. "What I speak of is not superstition. Nature will ever strive to find a balance, an equilibrium. For every action is an equal and opposite reaction and for every force in creation there will rise something to oppose it." Stars, it really was like story time, he was hanging on their every word. If he wanted to ask questions, he politely waited for them to finish speaking and there was something about it all that made everything they said seem so much more important.

Perhaps it was the weight of their words, the fact that this was ancient knowledge from a time when the world was still young. Perhaps it was simply the nature of it, that what they were sharing was a secret, something only he would carry. "The shadows are what you would consider a natural predator to my kind, for all that they lack in physical strength. It might be true that they feed off of negative emotions... but shadows are only half living. Human souls, the souls of paragons? What use are they to a creature who has seen eternity?" For a moment, Animus allowed themself to be drawn back into the present, merely so they could look at Gaster and see how well he was taking this new revelation. For the most part, he seemed calm, if they ignored the way his hands were clenched in his lap or horrified look he was giving them. "No, the shadows might torment the living, but they have no interest in humans or the children of magic and dust. What they truly covet, is a soul like mine. Something to fill the emptiness from which they were born, what ever the cost."

The skeleton across from them visibly shivered, seeming uneasy and off balance. And for a moment, they wondered if he childishly expected a shadow to leap out at him at any moment. Then again, that was a sensible enough thing to worry about. If they were outside of the house, beyond the safety of their wards and barrier, it would have been a valid concern. For several seconds, he seemed to grapple with himself, as if he had thousands of questions to ask but no idea where to start. Then, in a thin murmur that seemed far weaker than anything they would have expected from him, he quietly asked them. _'The cost?'_

Animus sighed and leaned back in their chair, staring up at the ceiling with a heaviness in their chest. The last time they'd tried talking about this sort of stuff, it hadn't ended well for them. But... Gaster wasn't like those people. With a heavy breath, they reluctantly answered him, if only because the thin rasp in his voice made them worry about his health. "When a shadow devours a soul... Well, there is nothing more to say on the matter. It is a final death, an end. There is no recovering, no returning to the cycle. It is a death of the soul, the endless circle broken. Everything the victim is, everything they might ever be is at an end. Their magic and energies become a part of the shadow. It claims... everything... There is simply... nothing left."

Their guest had gone ashen white by this point, looking stricken and ill. The emotions they could sense from him weren't much better, disbelief or rather, almost denial. Though there was also certainty as well. Perhaps he'd noticed that they didn't lie because the writhing fear that they could feel in the air certainly made it clear that at least a small part of him knew what they'd told him was the truth. Perhaps he was simply trying to rationalize it, come up with something that was less terrifying to explain what they were telling him. After what seemed like a very long time where he sat there warring with himself, he finally reacted outwardly, some small bit of his inner horror bleeding into his words. _'And you have to deal with this every day?'_

Animus couldn't help but offer him a small, self deprecating smirk, some bear flicker of amusement ghosting along the outer edges of their soul. It wasn't funny, logically it shouldn't have been and they didn't feel as though it was but there was something there. Something about his question was just too naive, too innocent, too ignorant. And they answered him, their voice almost light and cheerful despite the subject at hand. "And every night, though only outside of my warded holdings. If you live long enough, you tend to learn how to defend yourself." This shouldn't have been fun, not in any measure, they were taking amusement in Gaster's discomfort, however little. It was wrong. Animus dropped their smile after a long moment of consideration. He'd lived through enough, he didn't deserve their satire.

With a bitter sigh, they gestured to the skeleton in his entirety, refusing to meet his gaze. There was something heavy and uncomfortable in their soul, it didn't hurt but it was deceptively close to guilt. "At any rate, you can not afford to meet one under any circumstances. It might be possible for my kind to survive an encounter with a shadow but we have physical bodies and you do not. Your nature as magic-kin means that if you even get touched by one, regardless of how briefly, it will be your end. It would be different if I was near enough to provide immediate medical attention but relying on luck like that is unrealistic, which is why I am providing you with protections. An aura of displacement to conceal you from their senses and protective magics to shield you from their presence." Their guest shifted uncomfortably, seeming nearly as uneasy with the situation as they were, even if only for his own reasons.

Something in their soul squirmed at the sight of him. They didn't like seeing Gaster uncertain about anything, though they tried to ignore the thought. This was just a footnote, it wouldn't have any true lasting effect on anything. His discomfort meant nothing, it wouldn't change the outcome and they would be parting ways after he was safe at home with his family. It wouldn't take hardly any convincing for Papyrus to accept him, they wouldn't be surprised if he hauled Gaster through the door before more than two or three words had passed between them. Sans would be shocked and knocked off balance, with any luck his younger brother would manage to temper his reactions and help smooth over any rough patches in their reunions. Gaster's voice ripped them out of their ponderings and they couldn't help but sit up a little straighter, trying to ignore the fact that they'd been drifting away again. _'Will it work?'_

Now that was just insulting! Animus leveled an unamused stare on him and huffed a bit indignantly, trying to ignore the dulled irritation in their soul. Pride was a good thing but only in small doses and only when tempered with compassion.... _Well,_ they were wholly screwed weren't they? Still, they remembered the behavioral patterns that fit and they were able to take a step back and look at the situation objectively. Gaster had been unconscious when they carried him back to the house and he was probably too off balance to think of the very obvious answer to his question. So with as much tact as they could muster, they spoke slowly, trying not to allow any condescension into their tone of voice. "How do you think I got you out of the mountain? Not by grouping up with a dozen of my kind or setting up decoys, I assure you... though that probably would have made everything easier..."

Just as they would have thought. He blinked for a moment and then seemed to realize how dumb the question was in the first place, if the way he averted his gaze was anything to go by. Then again, the slight dusting of yellow on his cheekbones was a pretty good indicator as well, at least he was getting his color back. With a sigh, they reluctantly expanded on the question rather than just leaving it be. It would be a bad thing if he didn't understand the situation he was in and ended up making a mistake because of it. Still, giving away so many secrets all back to back was leaving them feeling twitchy and cornered. It wasn't as if Gaster was a threat to them, not as he was. But secrets remained secrets for a reason. After so many centuries, nay, millennia keeping silent on such matters, lifetime to lifetime...

There was no use in agonizing over it, if something went wrong it very well might mean a final death in their case. For Gaster, it would just mean that he got to go back to the void until someone else found a way to save him, if anyone ever did. Because they knew without a shadow of a doubt that if anything happened to him, Frisk would either load or reset in a heart beat... at least, so long as the young mageling knew about him in the first place. "You need to remember that these protections can only do so much. If a shadow notices you and decides to attack, I can not promise it will be enough to keep you safe." That got his attention and now he was looking at them, hyper critical, focused and intent... Listening to their every word, taking in everything they had to say and devoting it to memory. It was clear that he was taking this seriously, that was a load off their shoulders, though it didn't make them feel any better about sending him out into the world with a target on his back.

"Shadows are exceedingly petty and cruel, if one of them notices that you seem to be overly cautious, you might draw their attention. The best thing you can do is absolutely nothing. Trust my magic to do all of the work and never under any circumstances, go looking for them." Something in his expression softened a bit, they didn't bother trying to read into it. That look was doing something to them and they didn't like it. It was uncomfortable and painful, heavy in a way that they didn't want to dwell on. "If you feel that something is wrong, if you seem to sense something that should not be there, ignore it. Normally I would never have mentioned any of this to you. But you somehow managed to see beyond my own safeguards so for all I know you will be able to see shadows should your paths cross."

There was a brief pulse of surprise and confusion from their guest, something that pulled at their attention and gave them pause. Though it took a while for him to act on it. For a while, he simply sat across from them, they could feel him staring. It was just a good thing he wasn't looking too closely, they might have punched him if he tried catching another glimpse of their soul. A sense of realization seemed to sweep through him and then he was speaking slowly, almost as if caught off guard. _'You have wards around your soul?'_ Animus slowly turned their gaze back to him, blinking quietly when they realized he was actually asking them that. What the literal fuck? Had he actually pierced their defenses without even realizing it? How in the hell was that even possi-.... Oh... oooh they were an idiot. Something must have changed in their expression because he went from looking surprised and curious to outright concerned. Okay, that was... irritating. Not only had he looked past their wards without even trying but now he was worried about them.

With an irritable huff, Animus stood and paced a few feet away to help dispel some of the frantic energy twitching along their nerves. There was nothing they could do to get rid of the bite to their words when they answered him, though they did what they could to direct their anxiety away from Gaster. "Of course I do. Do you think I walk around like a glowing beacon letting every shadow in a thousand miles know where to find its next meal? No, of course not." It was the fragment of their soul they left with him, it must be. He was somehow subconsciously tapping into their other abilities. That was bad, that was very bad. Or maybe the fact that his soul was in direct contact with all of that energy was just making it possible for him to resonate with them? No, they wouldn't even consider such an idea.

It was too dangerous, if he was resonating with them on the same level as one of their own... They'd be better off locking him up or taking back their magic immediately. Letting him remain in contact with it for an extended period of time was out of the question if that was what was happening. They would have to get rid of him and.... Animus froze, slowly processing that thought only to shove it aside with a sudden rush of fury and contempt. It was only a possibility, they weren't a coward and they were not going to let fear and paranoia drive them into doing something like that. They needed him alive and every fiber of their being rallied against the thought of hurting him with a vicious certainty. Gaster wasn't in any shape to protect himself, it was _wrong!_ A kill in the heat of battle was one thing, premeditated murder was another. One was forgivable, expected even. While the other...

No, even objectively... They... they really couldn't hurt him... could they? There was something in their soul, a sudden pulse of emotion or intent that said with the utmost certainty, **_No._** The feeling was stubborn and resolute... They didn't know how to feel about it, it was terrifying and somehow reassuring at the same time. At this point he could try to kill them and they wouldn't be able to fight back, not really. Their magic would pass through him harmlessly, the very core of their being would prevent them from hurting him. Would they even be able to lift a finger against him? Or was running away the most they'd be able to do? Fear and certainty warred with one another, making them feel twitchy and trapped. The relief could only hold out for so long... He was a _weakness_. Fuck... they were cornered and there was nothing they could do about it. If anyone found out about this and decided to use him against them... Gaster's voice cut jaggedly through their train of thought, quiet and concerned, cautious. _'Animus?'_

Everything ground to a screeching halt, a moment crystallized into perfect clarity. It was too late to change things now, all they could do was face the dawn with what they had. And with a deep breath, they turned back to him, forcing themself to calm down. Now wasn't the time to think of this, they were going to scare Gaster or worse, mess up the wards he needed to keep him safe. There was no doubt, no uncertainty, they had a mission, a purpose... Even still, something inside of them was hyper aware of every move they made, the fact that their steps were just a little bit faster than before... Their sudden difficulty in meeting his gaze. "You are going home, right now. Sit still so I can get this over with."

Maybe Gaster sensed that something was off, maybe they weren't shielding quite effectively enough or maybe he actually trusted them. What ever it was, he fell silent and did as they asked, finally allowing them to work unimpeded. Loosing themself in the ebb and flow of magic was... easier than they thought it was going to be. Maybe it was just the fact that they had something else to focus on and they really didn't want to remember where their mind was going earlier? Or maybe it was their soul driving them into a state where they could actually function so they could better protect him? Oh, they were definitely going to have a meltdown. But that could wait until Gaster was safe and sound, with his children, where he belonged. They could allow their mind to spiral into discord the moment he was gone but not before. Doing that would place him in danger at best and at worst, it would reveal how unstable they really were. That couldn't be allowed to happen, they wouldn't let everything they'd worked for fall to ruin. It was true that they didn't have much to live for but that didn't mean they were going to stop fighting, not ever.

If they fell, the history of their entire race might end with them. ** _Never!_** It would not be. The humans would not win. Their people would be preserved, even if only in memory. Toward that end, they had a reputation, an image to maintain. Nothing could jeopardize that image. They were the calm before the storm. They were the essence of composure, control. The Elderbrew was a sanctuary, an offering of shelter in an uncaring world, peace. An uneasy silence trailed them long after they'd finished their work, shadowing them into the night on the long drive back to Sorren. Something seemed off about Gaster all the while, though they couldn't place exactly what.... he held onto them tighter than they would have expected from his place behind them on their motorcycle. It wasn't until they'd made it back to town that they realized he was shaking and with a bitter grimace, they slowed down for him.

Of course, he was probably still suffering _some_ lingering side effects from his extended sensory deprivation. The day to day occurrences in their very isolated sanctuary weren't exactly overwhelming when compared to the hustle and bustle of a city... even if he'd been particularly sensitive to birdsong for a while in the beginning. None of the happenings in their gated territory were all that stressful and riding on a motorcycle was probably a very large step in the wrong direction. All of that noise, the wind, the rattling and shaking of the bike chewing up the path ahead of them. The knowledge that he was moving in excess of thirty miles per hour at all times... They should have been more considerate. The reduced speed seemed to help for a little while. At least... until they entered traffic, then he just seemed to get worse and worse. By the time they pulled up in front of the skeleton brothers' home, they were certain they would have bruising in the places where he was clinging to them in a matter of hours at most. It was nothing more than they deserved.

A car horn blared from somewhere down the block and Gaster flinched, burying his face in the back of their coat. Well, that was a bit of an over reaction. And if they _hadn't_ been looking forward to some very lovely dark purple bruises tomorrow morning prior to that wonderful little diversion, they certainly would _now._ It took a lot more effort to detangle him from their person than they would have expected, in no small part due to the fact that it took them almost a full minute to realize he was having some kind of panic attack. In hindsight, they should have recognized the signs much sooner. The shaking, his erratic breathing, the way he was clinging to them as if they were the last solid thing in the world. And that was without taking into account the thundering and jittering way his magic was moving, sparking at the air. At least calming him down didn't take much effort. Then again, they did cheat a bit.

Something about radiating an aura of steady magic and soothing over his frayed nerves with a stable, reassuring presence struck them as unfair, if advantageous. It wasn't like he'd stood much of a chance after the stress of the journey. Still, Gaster looked a little too unsteady for their liking once they'd helped him off the bike and his silence had gone from being a relief to flat out worrying. A novel thing that was. This worry felt different from the usual prickling unease they normally felt, though they didn't have time to dwell on it. Their plan to drive away immediately was definitely out of the question now. Animus didn't trust him to make it to the door without collapsing. And while his bones were sturdy enough to handle the added strain... something about leaving him in this sort of state didn't sit well with them.

Nothing about him looked in any way fine. He was still shaking, badly enough they had to offer their shoulder for him to lean on and he looked white as a sheet. True, he didn't have a very dark complexion to begin with. But they were starting to learn the difference between his usual parchment color and the varying shades of pale a skeleton could go through when they were unwell. They had to get him inside, the sooner the better. It didn't really occur to Animus that they had absolutely no plan until after they'd knocked and by the time reality caught up with them, it was already too late. By the time they realized what they were doing, they were facing the one individual they'd resolved never to meet in person. Papyrus was at the door, staring at the two of them like one or both had suddenly sprouted a second head right in front of him.

Well damn... That reaction _was_ reasonable enough though. Even with the protections they'd given Gaster, the youngest skeleton was still connected to his father, he could probably sense the truth there. He would know him without words, without explanation, without doubt. Silence hovered uneasily between the three of them, long and uncomfortable. They could feel the scientist tense beside them, the way his breath caught for just a moment. Then, tentative and quiet, no more than a whisper of a breath. _'Papyrus?'_ And suddenly the world was spinning and Animus could have sworn it felt like they were being crushed. No... the world was in fact, not spinning. Papyrus had just pulled his father... and by extension them as well, into a very energetic bear hug that might or might not have been relocating several of their ribs and thoracic vertebrae. But that was fine, that was perfectly fine. What was _not_ fine in _any_ way was that they could hear the door closing and they were _definitely_ on the _wrong_ side of it!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry for the extended dry spell, lots happening and it feels like the whole world is loosing its mind.  
> So sleep deprived writer is taking longer to do stuffs than before.  
> A part of me wonders if making a Q&A for Animus would be fun.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A return to Gaster's point of view for a short while where we see what was going on in his head during the trip.  
> Skeledad has a severe panic attack and nearly ends up suffering a series of really nasty flashbacks.  
> Animus helps him calm down, he ends up lost in memories anyway.  
> Papyrus being Papyrus.  
> Sans being a jerk.  
> Sass.  
> *Stares at the end of the chapter.*  
> O_O  
> Does that count as manipulation or just bad luck?

It made him think of millions of pieces. Grains of sand. Shards of glass, scattering to infinity... It made him think of countless fragments... Shuddering and twitching, pulsing with a manic rhythm of horror and agony... overwhelming despair. It made him think of darkness, of emptiness, of endless cold. He felt himself being drawn away and struggled to fight it. The bike felt like it was trying to shake him apart. It made him think of the air vibrating with untapped magic and raw determination... Roaring light and sound as the world came apart around him. Gaster shuddered and tightened his grip, trying to anchor himself, trying to focus on the softness of cloth against his wrists and phalanges. On the slight give of living flesh and the shifting of the muscles underneath. He wasn't alone, he wasn't there, it was over, it was over.

Gaster's soul shivered inside of him. He knew he was shaking but he couldn't make it stop. It took everything he had just to keep himself rooted to the present. An overwhelming sense of helplessness pulsed through him, a crippling chill as though ice water had replaced the marrow in his bones. Every shivering twitch of his soul reminded him that he still wasn't whole, as if he could still sense the parts of him he'd left behind. The motorcycle slowed and he realized that he'd been hyperventilating. Somehow, he managed to stop. Then it was as if the entire world exploded into motion. Everything was too bright, too loud, too... **_alive_.** And he simply couldn't deal with it anymore. Gaster's nerves were frayed, it felt like his soul was trying to beat its way out of his chest and he was acutely aware of the magic holding it in place, keeping him together, keeping him alive.

Suddenly it wasn't reassuring anymore, suddenly it felt stifling, as though he was a prisoner in his own body. He tried not to think of it that way... the foreign magic racing through his bones made it so hard to ignore. The magic that was familiar, that was his own, felt like such a feeble thing. So small and faint and helpless compared to everything else. His own magic was primarily centered within his soul, curling in on itself as Animus' magic coaxed it into doing something wholly unnatural. There was soul energy mixed in, bolstering him, filling out the places where he was broken, where he was empty. It felt wrong, it wasn't _his!_ And the strange creature's magic wasn't just in his soul, as if it could have ever stayed in one place! ~~As if invading the very core of his being wasn't enough!~~ It was spread through every fiber of his being, thrumming, pulsing, flowing through him as his own magic should have been. Oh, his magic was doing just that, yes, ~~he would have been nothing but dust...~~ there would have been nothing of him left except for his soul itself if that wasn't the case. But his magic was so faint, drowned in Animus' own so thickly it felt like he should have been restrained somehow. Like blue magic weighing him down, like green magic locking him in place.

Sound roared somewhere nearby and Gaster felt it like a shock through his entire system. It sounded like a war horn blaring from just beyond his sight, like an alarm shrieking from overhead. And the only thing that kept him rooted in the present was the sudden conditioned horror that forced him to grasp at anything and everything that might stop it from happening again. The scent of maple and wildflowers, the warmth of a living body in his arms, the silky texture of what ever material Animus made their clothing out of. Then came a sudden swell of warm magic, washing over him in a steady pulse that felt firm and reassuring, safe in the truest of the word. It felt... vaguely familiar, pulling at him in a way that made all of the horrors of the past seem so terribly far away. Something about Animus' magic reminded him of someone else, though his thoughts were too scattered for him to parse exactly who or when. An image came to mind unbidden, a figure in full armor against the setting sun and along side it... a feeling of horrible loss.

Distant memories of dancing flames swept through him. _A faint smile, a warmth so rarely seen._ _Softly glittering wisps behind a truly selfless creature, a harshness that concealed something so much kinder._ No, he remembered... and he wished he hadn't. Even after so long, it hurt to remember. The hopes of so many weighed upon a single soul, so brave, so strong. _Rare moments of peace in a battle torn kingdom at the end of the world, effortlessly held aloft by the actions of a single monster._ Not so... the strength needed to protect everyone... All of the faces who came but never went, sheltered from harm while death rained from above. _A powerful soul raising a rallying cry to turn the tides._ No one ever realized the weight of it. _Battle scars littering broken bones as testament to their abuse, a porcelain mask that reflected nothing of the pain..._ Or if they had, no one ever dared to question it. There was too much at stake, so many lives hanging in the balance. _They'd asked too much..._ was it any wonder...

A firm rapping noise pulled him back to the present and Gaster blearily refocused on his surroundings. They were standing in front of the door, when had they moved? He hadn't noticed... that wasn't a good sign, was it? But what ever worries he might have had regarding his health were swept away the moment someone came to greet them. A violent pulse of recognition raced through him, his soul was suddenly full to bursting. Animus was right... Oh, how he'd grown. Papyrus, his little boy... It was bittersweet. How much of their lives he'd missed! He looked shocked, could he really blame him? Confused emotions flittered faintly through the family bond they shared, frail after so many years of neglect. This was really happening... He was... home?

Gaster didn't know if he wanted to laugh or cry. It felt impossible, he wasn't even certain if he could believe it. The moment felt so fragile, as if the world might crumble away before his very eyes. It... it was really... It wasn't a dream? He couldn't remember his missing time, it still felt like he'd been trapped for centuries. And his youngest child simply stood there, something lost and mystified in his expression, almost appalled. As if he was trying to ask him without words, why he'd left them behind, where he'd been all this time. To think, he'd wanted to rush to their sides the moment he could walk. Now that he was there, he didn't know what to do or say. How could he ever make amends? What words could express his regret, his sorrow? He'd missed their entire lives. They'd grown up without him... and oh how bright they were!

Like beacons of light, he could feel them. One as brilliant as the sun and somewhere nearby... Sans... He could have been the moon for how he shined! Stars... he could feel them. It seemed like his voice was miles away and when it finally came to him, it was quiet and fragile. Damnit, he was shaking and when he managed to speak it was with a wobbling sort of shudder that made it sound like he was going to cry. Perhaps he was. _'Papyrus?'_ His son's name felt awkward as it left him, distantly and vaguely... how long had it been? And just like that, as if his voice alone had shattered the spell of silence over them. Papyrus swept his arms around him and the tears Gaster was holding back, finally fell. He was home... at last, he was home.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The world was ending. That was how Animus felt about their current predicament. They were sitting in the skeleton family's living room. On the floor. At their own insistence. In front of a rather nice looking polished wood coffee table... Staring at a cup of tea and trying to ignore the way Sans was leering at them. Even without looking, they could feel him glaring at them from his perch on a truly hideous green armchair off to their right. They'd only gotten a brief glance at the living room before the paranoid pun monster made his appearance and they had to say.... they weren't impressed. It wasn't as if the two of brothers had fallen on tough times or anything like that, they were actually rather well off even without their father. But whether it was nostalgia or some kind of strange habit where they made the most out of everything they had... the skeletons had kept the beaten up couch from their old home in the underground. More than that, it seemed they were even starting to turn it into a theme for the rest of their furniture... if that ugly armchair was anything to go on.

Were they a little bit overly critical of the aesthetic? Maybe, they couldn't really help it. Why were they on the floor? Simple. Gaster was currently occupying the couch, wrapped up in what looked like about every clean blanket and sheet in the house. Papyrus had taken one look at his shaken appearance and started treating him like he was made of glass. It wasn't exactly unfounded but it also left them in the incredibly awkward position of involuntary guest while the youngest in the family doted on his father and tried making _them_ feel comfortable like they were some sort of old family friend. Why were they even still there in the first place? They clearly weren't welcome if the emotions they were sensing from Sans were any indicator. Animus wanted to leave, they felt cornered and vulnerable and it hardly helped that they hadn't slept at all in the past twenty four hours.

Besides, Gaster needed to rest, he would have an easier time doing that if they weren't there setting off Sans' paranoia. The skeleton family's soul bond was probably faint after this long but he would certainly still be able to sense both of his children. If Sans felt unsafe around them, it would probably translate into a general sense of danger that would make it impossible for him to relax. And besides... they spared another glance at the former scientist... he looked horrible. His color still hadn't come back, his wisps were dim and he looked visibly shaken, almost dazed. They wouldn't get any support from him. At least he'd stopped crying, that had been... unpleasant. The best thing they could do is politely excuse themself, give the family space, deal with the fallout as best they could. Gaster was back, he was in one piece... sort of. And they'd ensured that he was safe! Sure, they'd not exactly returned him in perfect health but they'd done the best they could while pressed for time.

It wasn't like he was falling apart, right? It wasn't that bad, right? No. No, he was fine. They were just letting their nerves get to them, there was no point in worrying about any of that. It wasn't as if they'd wasted every second they'd had since recovering him from the void. Everything had been working towards this end, he was well enough to be on his own. This meeting should have been put off until he was at his best, but it wasn't as if being brought home early would have all too many ill effects on his health. It would be a difficult transition, from the peace and quiet of the underground, to the absolute sensory deprivation of the void and then the frantic pace of modern life. But his sons would ease him through it, Papyrus was attentive and had a heart big enough for all of them... figuratively speaking anyway. It wasn't ideal, that was all, there was no reason for them to feel cornered like this.

With some effort, Animus managed to force their churning magic to still, ignoring the buzzing of their implants and the presence of the black sand hidden underneath their coat. They should have left it behind, but if they'd had to defend Gaster on the trip... It really was a double edged blade... Shoving aside their sense of awkwardness, they folded their hands in their lap and regarded the youngest of the skeleton family warily as he paced back into the room. Papyrus was... well, they should have expected the hyperactive energy. It was sort of common sense at this point, but it was different experiencing it firsthand rather than seeing it from the perspective of someone else. It was like he constantly had to have something to do, whether it was cooking, cleaning, or simply straightening out something that was just the slightest bit askew. Then again, they could sense that he was agitated, nervous, worried.

Gaster's current condition was clearly upsetting him, something about his nervous energy twisted at their soul unpleasantly and Animus hesitantly took a sip of the tea he'd left out for them. He was currently fussing over his father again, straightening out the blanket cocoon he'd wrapped around him for the hundredth time that night and then trying to get him to eat some soup that they weren't certain was entirely edible in the first place. A cold chill shivered up their spine and they had to fight not to react to it, taking another steadying breath with their next sip of tea. Excusing themself wasn't going to be easy, Sans wanted answers and from an outside perspective the situation could be easily and horribly misread. Their magic was clinging to Gaster. Even if he hadn't already checked his father's soul, he'd be able to sense it. And assuming he'd seen? It would look bad without any context, he might even think they were holding him hostage. Given Sans' paranoia, they wouldn't be surprised if that was exactly were his mind was going at the moment. It wasn't like they'd given him any reason to believe the opposite. All of their interactions up to this point were short and impersonal, even if they'd wanted to walk away from all of this the moment they were given the chance.

One more glance at Papyrus' worried face caused another twist in their soul and they quickly dropped their attention back down to the cup of tea. It was getting cold, Animus mechanically drank, trying to think of how best to deal with the situation. The house was so quiet that it almost felt like a physical blow when Sans finally spoke up from his place in the armchair. Overall, he sounded laid back, but they could hear the veiled edge in his voice, sense the subtle threat in his words. "So, where'd ya say you found him exactly?" Stars above, he was really pushing his luck. They could feel his magic weighing down on them, hissing through the air. Crawling down their back? Like hell! It was more like gravity had increased and the temperature had dropped by ten degrees if not more! Saying it was difficult to ignore was putting it mildly! If they hadn't spent half of their life dealing with shadows, they probably would have been shaking. As it stood, they had to take another steadying breath, covering it up by sipping away at their tea again.

It was a miracle they managed to keep their own voice level by the time they answered him. Their survival instincts were twitching at the edges of their mind and it was making them tense. "I didn't say." For a few seconds, the feeling in the air grew even worse and Animus was convinced that Sans was going to loose his temper. But an instant later, Gaster's voice chimed thinly through the air and all of the magic dropped out of existence in the next heartbeat. _'Sans...'_ Something in their soul twisted again at the sound of his voice, so weak and quiet and tired. And they didn't have it in them to be difficult. With a bitter sigh, they set aside their cup of tea, glancing back up at the head of the skeleton family only to regret it almost immediately afterward. The dazed look in his wisps was gone but he looked exhausted, like he might pass out any minute. Now wasn't the time for long winded explanations or pointless arguments.

What was done was done. And though it was difficult to meet Sans' piercing gaze, Animus finally turned to look at him, feeling the way his magic was poking and prodding at their wards. He was trying to bypass their defenses, check their stats and their intent, peer into their very soul... **_Denied._** It was clear that his inability to see was agitating him but they weren't going to give him any more of a reason to distrust them either. And if he got a look at their stats, diplomacy would be the very last thing on his mind. So with an internal wince, they swallowed their pride, deciding to be a least moderately reasonable while they tried to keep their wariness from showing. "Do you want a direct answer or a little white lie that's meant to make you feel better?"

Sans froze, pulled free of what ever anger fueled magic he was worrying over. Sharp wisps roved over them, picking apart their posture, their facial expression, peering into their eyes as if he might find something hidden there. For an instant, his attention flicked over to the rest of his family and the tense set of his shoulders wilted away, a lazy smile smoothing across his jaw. If they were anyone else, Animus might have believed that he was feeling amiable. They weren't stupid. They knew Sans better than that. He'd either assessed the potential risk to his family and deemed it unacceptable. Or he'd decided that he didn't want Papyrus to hear what ever they might have to say. The tone of his voice suggested about as much, lilting dangerously into joviality with just the faintest traces of venom, of warning. "C'mon, I'm just ribbing ya. Not like I've got a bone ta pick or anything."

Papyrus groaned in irritation without any of his usual volume or intensity, grumbling to his brother with an almost subdued sort of disapproval. "Now isn't the time for any more of your insufferable puns! Father needs rest, not..." He trailed off at the sound of a thin chuckle coming from Gaster and Animus' soul did an odd stutter leap in their chest, something warm and bright that lingered just a moment longer than normal. He was laughing at Sans' puns... he was laughing at Sans' puns! ~~Oh stars that was cute~~ They dropped their attention back down to the table, feeling conflicted and confused. This was... odd... Normally, if they were reading a book, they would have chuckled to themself, they would have found it endearing. But they weren't reading a book, this was reality... It wasn't quite right, it was an instant, a brief moment of something that didn't stick. They'd still felt something, how? Why? It hadn't been fear, it hadn't been anger, it hadn't been pain.

Unfortunately, they weren't left very long to linger on it. What ever had passed between the skeleton family was over nearly as quickly as it happened and just like that, Sans was pulling their mind off course again. It was like he'd erased half of an important riddle while they were working on it and they couldn't hope to unpuzzle what ever they were left with by the end of it. "Hey, you okay there buddy? Got somethin' on your mind?" A vicious throb of irritation pulsed through them and they just barely managed to reign in their temper before they could growl at him or do anything else that would make matters worse. Why was it so damn hard to stay calm around him? What was the problem here? It wasn't like he was being any more annoying than usual... Oh... oh they were being an idiot again. Of course it was hard to deal with him, they were treating him like Gaster. Their speech patterns might have adapted to something more casual and relaxed but they weren't fabricating emotions so they didn't have any sort of filter. With a deep breath Animus grasped for the persona they used around their patrons, struggling to find a middle ground where it might be easier to slip their figurative mask back on.

It always felt too easy, like they should have more trouble being someone they weren't and somehow their soul felt heavier for it. It didn't help that the emotions they were sensing from Gaster took a sudden shift into something weary and disapproving the moment they started speaking. "It's... just been a long week... I'm not even sure how long I've been away from The Elderbrew." A little bit of weariness in their tone of voice, a slight slump to their shoulders, radiate a bit of exhaustion. And suddenly Sans seemed a lot less tense, though the emotions they could sense from him were making it hard to stay civil. Concern, guilt, pity.... what was with these skeletons and pitying them! Even Papyrus was radiating some form of it, it made their soul twist unpleasantly and left a feeling like bile in the back of their throat. They weren't some helpless child or half starved puppy beaten within an inch of its life! A bit of sleep loss was nothing compared to everything they'd endured over the course of their entire existence. A bit of extra work was laughable in its simplicity! This was nothing, less than nothing.

How **_dare_** they? How **_dare_** they look at them like that? It left a horrible seething fury building in their soul, curling at the edge of their breath, hissing in their veins. Oh, it was hardly a drop of rain compared to their pure, undying hatred of mankind. But that was hardly comforting, not at all reassuring. If not for their decision to cling to a persona, they might have reacted outwardly. Even still, they doubted if it was something all that easily overlooked. All Animus could do was cling to the possibility that it would be misread as irritability and pure crankiness. From the way Sans tensed, they doubted he was that naive. So, barring experimenting with translocation magic which they didn't think their soul could handle, they chose the next best course of action aside from retreating immediately. There were a great many ways they could see this night ending, none of them pleasant. But if nothing else, they could limit the amount of collateral damage.

Instead of reacting outwardly to Sans' discomfort, Animus reached back for their cup of tea, sipping on it while they exuded an air of tiredness and quiet contemplation. One more glance at Gaster for effect, a well placed frown as they let their attention drop back down to the bottom of their mug. Then they were speaking, quiet and concerned, refusing to meet anyone's eyes, as if they felt guilty. "Maybe you should get him to a guest bed or something, he looks like he might fall asleep sitting up at this rate." There were several moments of intense quiet and then Papyrus was speaking softly, a smile in his voice. "Of course, I should have thought of that sooner! You must be so exhausted! Don't you worry, there will be plenty of time for us to catch up in the morning! Then you can tell us all about your no doubt thrilling adventures all over the Underground!"

And the next thing Animus knew, the two of them were half way up the staircase with the youngest of the skeleton family talking enough for two parts of a conversation all by himself. His excitable chatter was like background noise, buzzing consistently even long after the two of them were out of eyesight. Most of it was senseless babble, how happy he was to see Gaster. And any number of nonsensical things that seemed to elude to a very convoluted lie Sans had probably used to avoid telling his younger brother that their father was most likely dead. Huh.... headcannons be real. Overprotective much? _Seriously Sans?_ how was lying to your younger brother going to leave him with any sort of realistic expectations for the world around him? No point agonizing over it now... The moment Papyrus and Gaster were out of earshot, Sans turned on them. The smile on his face grew sharp and unfriendly, damn near violent. The light in his eye sockets cut out, locking his expression into something they recognized from the fandom as an intimidation technique. Too bad they didn't find it intimidating. Then again, the tone of his voice could have scared most anyone else. "Short version, now."

There was a petulant part of Animus that wanted to pretend they didn't understand him, waste time until Papyrus came back just to spite him. They really didn't like being given orders, never mind the hostile intent he was sending their way. Then again, making a stink of things right that moment would have been a bad call. For starters, Gaster was still unwell and setting off his son on the same night he got back probably wouldn't do him any favors. So as much as it stung their pride and made them feel like an angry wasp, they decided to give him what he wanted. But if he was going to act like a child in this situation, then it felt like the perfect moment for a little bit of petty revenge. He wanted a short version? Oh, were they going to make him regret his wording. How about an abridged summery to curb that pride of his? "First off, I was minding my own business." Sans sent them a piercing glare that could shatter glass, hissing quietly under his breath in a way that made them wonder if he'd meant for them to hear or not. "Bullshit." They felt the beginnings of a smirk trying to form and had to forcibly crush the twitch at the corner of their lips. _Oh dear sweet child, you just did a Team Four Star impression without even knowing it._

There was no denying that they were enjoying his irritation in what ever capacity they could. Though... an irritable, sleep deprived part of them would have liked if the sense of satisfaction lilted just a bit closer to amusement. "Was attacked by a very unfriendly cat, fell down a few times, got lost and ended up finding him napping in a blank grey room where it just about felt like the sun went to curl up and die." The look on his face was priceless, irritable and angry with just the slightest bit of confused frustration muddling things up. Their tone of voice had been light and conversational, a little bit too flat for a joke. _Knocked a bit off balance little one?_ _Were you expecting snarling anger and impulsiveness?_ They weren't anywhere near that tired or that irritable. In fact, their response appeared to be perfect in every sense of the word, leaving him chewing over it for just a few seconds longer than their exchange normally would have allowed for. So instead of giving him a chance to come up with an appropriate reaction, probably involving a lot more venom and subtle magic than was warranted. Animus spoke up in that brief window of hesitation, picking up their almost empty mug of tea. "Hey, you asked for the short version."

Ah, the sudden flare of anger they sensed from him was a balm to their weary soul and they drank the last dregs of their tea in comfortable silence. Sans seemed ready to start throwing things or shouting at them, they could feel him readying for what was probably a scathing retort. But there was something that the young skeleton didn't know about their given situation. Or rather, someone, who rounded a corner just as he was about to get nasty. Sometimes, it was very cathartic being able to mess with people in this subtle, borderline artful way. Being able to sense their surroundings had many advantages and the tea had helped replenish some of their energy. So while Sans was forced to break off abruptly the moment his brother paced into view, Animus had no such reservations. They set down their empty cup with a gentle clink and slowly stood, brushing off their clothes for a moment before turning their attention to the youngest of the skeleton family.

It still hurt to look at him and see worry pinching at the edges of his expression, leaving them feeling hesitant to be on their way. How... foolish, it wasn't their place. And yet they still found it difficult to address him, guilt clawing at their insides. "I should probably get going, it's late." There was something wrong with their voice, it didn't come out anywhere near like what they were aiming for. It was small and tired and quiet and they hated it! The things this family was doing to them. They needed to forget everything about them the moment they walked out the door. Why were they like this? Why did they care? Damnit, they knew why they cared, even when they shouldn't. Even when their soul was so busted up it felt more painful and guilty than anything else. There was something stubborn and uncompromising in their soul. Something that stirred when they looked at them, sensed their vulnerability, sensed the dangers that circled them. Something protective that made them feel needed, a pull on their conscience, a snag in the very core of their being. The guardian saw the skeleton family as weak, fragile when measured against the cruelties of the world around them.

It wasn't true, Gaster and the boys had friends, people who would look out for them. Animus would be shocked if there wasn't at least one person keeping watch at night in the neighborhood, looking out for the small family of two, soon to be recognized as three. A chill rolled through their veins, how would Asgore react to this? They seriously needed to make themself scarce. Like, maybe go on a mini vacation? Hide in a hole until he lost interest? It felt like they were going to be sick, they really shouldn't have rushed into this. Everything had been just fine back when they actually had a plan! And what happens the moment they improvise? Hell, that's what happens. Everything was spiraling out of control and they'd probably already been spotted entering the house by someone. They couldn't just brush it off and pretend it was nothing major. Keeping the truth from Sans would only work so long as Gaster kept his mouth shut and while they didn't think he'd blab about them not being human... there was no hiding the fact that they'd used magic to save him.

No, no this was fine, they needed to remain calm. Loosing themself to worry wouldn't do them any good and besides that, Asgore was likely to overlook their... problematic nature. If they'd been discovered prior to recovering Gaster, matters would be different. But with the former royal scientist as a character witness and the evidence of his continued existence? Even without the complex close personal history between those two, it would be difficult to discount their efforts. True, none of what they'd done so far was born of any sort of altruism, it was purely for their own benefit... but Asgore didn't need to know that. The only person who knew was Gaster, though Sans probably suspected that they stood to gain _something_ from all of this. A sudden weight landed on their shoulders, the universe derailing their train of thought in the form of Papyrus' relentless energy. "It's decided then!" Wait, what? What was decided? What they hell did they miss? _Why was Sans snickering?_

And the next thing they knew, the youngest of the skeleton family was steering them towards the couch with entirely too much enthusiasm, his voice upbeat and cheerful. "You'll spend the night here! I can't possibly allow such a kind individual to place themselves at risk driving a motorcycle of all things so late at night! Why, you look like you might fall asleep half way home!" What? Oh no... _oh stars no!_ They wanted to object, they wanted to insist that yes, they could make it home in one piece. Staying with the skeleton family was out of the question, their emotions were already behaving erratically. There was no telling what might happen if they didn't leave right now, their paranoia and anxiety were only two parts of a much larger problem. If they didn't leave it would only be harder for them to put aside the entire ordeal and move on with their life.

Attachment needed to be prevented at any cost, they were already more invested in the safety of the small family than they should have been. Their predisposition to protect others had already latched onto Gaster and his children, if they didn't isolate themself while they still had the chance, it might be impossible for them to cut ties. But the moment Papyrus dragged them onto the couch and they saw that hopeful look in his orbits... _Damnit..._ Something in their soul twisted unpleasantly and a feeling like bile crawled up their throat. Were they really going to turn down Papyrus? Were they really going to tell him to mind his own business, march out the door and drive off without a word of explanation? .... Fucking _damnit..._ A broad smile pulled across his face and he held up a hand with his palm facing upward, something kind yet firm in his tone of voice. "Keys?"

A part of Animus wondered if Papyrus knew he had them by the throat as they reluctantly relinquished their keys, sighing bitterly and flashing Sans a glare the moment his snickering gave way to a good old laugh at their expense. For the love of the ancestors, they didn't want to upset Papyrus. It was stupid, it was illogical, he wasn't a child anymore. They shouldn't have cared, they didn't care! So why did the thought of that smile of his dropping into a frown turn their stomach so? More importantly... As they watched him pocket their keys and dash off with the promise of a blanket and a pillow, leaving them feeling more tired than annoyed... They couldn't help but wonder if he knew what they were planning. The aura of innocence the youngest skeleton gave off felt genuine enough, bright and kind... But Gaster was his father, it wouldn't have been that farfetched to think that he was smarter than he let on... They were probably overthinking things again... It was just going to be another one of _those_ nights, wasn't it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not going to lie, it was an internal battle as to whether or not I was going to leave in the TFS reference.  
> Also, before you voice any complaints, technically, looking at it from an abstract point of view, they didn't lie.  
> They were A) Attacked by a very unfriendly cat, it was just a cat monster turned void demon.  
> B) Fell down a bunch of times, only it was after being tackled and or thrown.  
> C) Got lost, several times, though Gaster's soul shards helped them find their way in the end.  
> And finally D) Found him in a blank grey room where it did indeed feel like the sun had died.  
> None of these statements are in fact lies, not direct ones at any rate. There's just no context.  
> I also argued with myself internally for quite some time before posting this chapter.  
> In no small part due to the fact that I haven't been able to write anything since like.... three or four weeks ago?  
> Not clear on the exact time table, I've just been editing recent stuff and hoping for a bit of peace and quiet.  
> No such luck, so enjoy what will likely be my last entry for a good long while. Sorry.


End file.
